No More Learning

'

"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 flavour 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'. "

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 a 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 eld 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! '" 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 gipsy 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 masquerade I suspected. I knew gipsies 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.

"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 gipsy, I daresay. "

"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 grip; 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 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 daresay), 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 to 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 gaiety. "

"And Mason? "

"He was laughing too. "

"If all these people came in a body and spat 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 amongst 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 upstairs.

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, 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 paralysed.
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 eyrie. The thing delivering such utterance must rest ere
it could repeat the effort.

It came out of the third storey; 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 storey. 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 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. "

"Come out, then, quietly. "

I obeyed. Mr. Rochester stood in the gallery holding a light.

"I want you," he said: "come 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 overcome, 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
shut, now opening, now wandering through the room, now fixing on me, and
ever glazed with the dulness of horror. I must dip my hand again and
again in the basin of blood and water, and wipe away the trickling gore.
I must see the light of the unsnuffed candle wane on my employment; the
shadows darken on the wrought, antique tapestry round me, and grow black
under the hangings of the vast old bed, and quiver strangely over the
doors of a great cabinet opposite--whose front, divided into twelve
panels, bore, in grim design, the heads of the twelve apostles, each
enclosed in its separate panel as in a frame; while above them at the top
rose an ebon crucifix and a dying Christ.

According as the shifting obscurity and flickering gleam hovered here or
glanced there, it was now the bearded physician, Luke, that bent his
brow; now St. John's long hair that waved; and anon the devilish face of
Judas, that grew out of the panel, and seemed gathering life and
threatening a revelation of the arch-traitor--of Satan himself--in his
subordinate's form.

Amidst all this, I had to listen as well as watch: to listen for the
movements of the wild beast or the fiend in yonder side den. But since
Mr. Rochester's visit it seemed spellbound: all the night I heard but
three sounds at three long intervals,--a step creak, a momentary renewal
of the snarling, canine noise, and a deep human groan.

Then my own thoughts worried me. What crime was this that lived
incarnate in this sequestered mansion, and could neither be expelled nor
subdued by the owner? --what mystery, that broke out now in fire and now
in blood, at the deadest hours of night? What creature was it, that,
masked in an ordinary woman's face and shape, uttered the voice, now of a
mocking demon, and anon of a carrion-seeking bird of prey?

And this man I bent over--this commonplace, quiet stranger--how had he
become involved in the web of horror? and why had the Fury flown at him?
What made him seek this quarter of the house at an untimely season, when
he should have been asleep in bed? I had heard Mr. Rochester assign him
an apartment below--what brought him here! And why, now, was he so tame
under the violence or treachery done him? Why did he so quietly submit
to the concealment Mr. Rochester enforced? Why _did_ Mr. Rochester
enforce this concealment? His guest had been outraged, his own life on a
former occasion had been hideously plotted against; and both attempts he
smothered in secrecy and sank in oblivion! Lastly, I saw Mr. Mason was
submissive to Mr. Rochester; that the impetuous will of the latter held
complete sway over the inertness of the former: the few words which had
passed between them assured me of this. It was evident that in their
former intercourse, the passive disposition of the one had been
habitually influenced by the active energy of the other: whence then had
arisen Mr. Rochester's dismay when he heard of Mr. Mason's arrival? Why
had the mere name of this unresisting individual--whom his word now
sufficed to control like a child--fallen on him, a few hours since, as a
thunderbolt might fall on an oak?

Oh! I could not forget his look and his paleness when he whispered:
"Jane, I have got a blow--I have got a blow, Jane. " I could not forget
how the arm had trembled which he rested on my shoulder: and it was no
light matter which could thus bow the resolute spirit and thrill the
vigorous frame of Fairfax Rochester.

"When will he come? When will he come? " I cried inwardly, as the night
lingered and lingered--as my bleeding patient drooped, moaned, sickened:
and neither day nor aid arrived. I had, again and again, held the water
to Mason's white lips; again and again offered him the stimulating salts:
my efforts seemed ineffectual: either bodily or mental suffering, or loss
of blood, or all three combined, were fast prostrating his strength. He
moaned so, and looked so weak, wild, and lost, I feared he was dying; and
I might not even speak to him.

The candle, wasted at last, went out; as it expired, I perceived streaks
of grey light edging the window curtains: dawn was then approaching.
Presently I heard Pilot bark far below, out of his distant kennel in the
courtyard: hope revived. Nor was it unwarranted: in five minutes more
the grating key, the yielding lock, warned me my watch was relieved. It
could not have lasted more than two hours: many a week has seemed
shorter.

Mr. Rochester entered, and with him the surgeon he had been to fetch.

"Now, Carter, be on the alert," he said to this last: "I give you but
half-an-hour for dressing the wound, fastening the bandages, getting the
patient downstairs and all. "

"But is he fit to move, sir? "

"No doubt of it; it is nothing serious; he is nervous, his spirits must
be kept up. Come, set to work. "

Mr. Rochester drew back the thick curtain, drew up the holland blind, let
in all the daylight he could; and I was surprised and cheered to see how
far dawn was advanced: what rosy streaks were beginning to brighten the
east. Then he approached Mason, whom the surgeon was already handling.

"Now, my good fellow, how are you? " he asked.

"She's done for me, I fear," was the faint reply.

"Not a whit! --courage! This day fortnight you'll hardly be a pin the
worse of it: you've lost a little blood; that's all. Carter, assure him
there's no danger. "

"I can do that conscientiously," said Carter, who had now undone the
bandages; "only I wish I could have got here sooner: he would not have
bled so much--but how is this? The flesh on the shoulder is torn as well
as cut. This wound was not done with a knife: there have been teeth
here! "

"She bit me," he murmured. "She worried me like a tigress, when
Rochester got the knife from her. "

"You should not have yielded: you should have grappled with her at once,"
said Mr. Rochester.

"But under such circumstances, what could one do? " returned Mason. "Oh,
it was frightful! " he added, shuddering. "And I did not expect it: she
looked so quiet at first. "

"I warned you," was his friend's answer; "I said--be on your guard when
you go near her. Besides, you might have waited till to-morrow, and had
me with you: it was mere folly to attempt the interview to-night, and
alone. "

"I thought I could have done some good. "

"You thought! you thought! Yes, it makes me impatient to hear you: but,
however, you have suffered, and are likely to suffer enough for not
taking my advice; so I'll say no more. Carter--hurry! --hurry! The sun
will soon rise, and I must have him off. "

"Directly, sir; the shoulder is just bandaged. I must look to this other
wound in the arm: she has had her teeth here too, I think. "

"She sucked the blood: she said she'd drain my heart," said Mason.

I saw Mr. Rochester shudder: a singularly marked expression of disgust,
horror, hatred, warped his countenance almost to distortion; but he only
said--

"Come, be silent, Richard, and never mind her gibberish: don't repeat
it. "

"I wish I could forget it," was the answer.

"You will when you are out of the country: when you get back to Spanish
Town, you may think of her as dead and buried--or rather, you need not
think of her at all. "

"Impossible to forget this night! "

"It is not impossible: have some energy, man. You thought you were as
dead as a herring two hours since, and you are all alive and talking now.
There! --Carter has done with you or nearly so; I'll make you decent in a
trice. Jane" (he turned to me for the first time since his re-entrance),
"take this key: go down into my bedroom, and walk straight forward into
my dressing-room: open the top drawer of the wardrobe and take out a
clean shirt and neck-handkerchief: bring them here; and be nimble. "

I went; sought the repository he had mentioned, found the articles named,
and returned with them.

"Now," said he, "go to the other side of the bed while I order his
toilet; but don't leave the room: you may be wanted again. "

I retired as directed.

"Was anybody stirring below when you went down, Jane? " inquired Mr.
Rochester presently.

"No, sir; all was very still. "

"We shall get you off cannily, Dick: and it will be better, both for your
sake, and for that of the poor creature in yonder. I have striven long
to avoid exposure, and I should not like it to come at last. Here,
Carter, help him on with his waist-coat. Where did you leave your furred
cloak? You can't travel a mile without that, I know, in this damned cold
climate. In your room? --Jane, run down to Mr. Mason's room,--the one
next mine,--and fetch a cloak you will see there. "

Again I ran, and again returned, bearing an immense mantle lined and
edged with fur.

"Now, I've another errand for you," said my untiring master; "you must
away to my room again. What a mercy you are shod with velvet, Jane! --a
clod-hopping messenger would never do at this juncture. You must open
the middle drawer of my toilet-table and take out a little phial and a
little glass you will find there,--quick! "

I flew thither and back, bringing the desired vessels.

"That's well! Now, doctor, I shall take the liberty of administering a
dose myself, on my own responsibility. I got this cordial at Rome, of an
Italian charlatan--a fellow you would have kicked, Carter. It is not a
thing to be used indiscriminately, but it is good upon occasion: as now,
for instance. Jane, a little water. "

He held out the tiny glass, and I half filled it from the water-bottle on
the washstand.

"That will do;--now wet the lip of the phial. "

I did so; he measured twelve drops of a crimson liquid, and presented it
to Mason.