No More Learning

"

"I feel tired often, sleepy sometimes, but seldom sad. "

"Then you have some secret hope to buoy you up and please you with
whispers of the future? "

"Not I. The utmost I hope is, to save money enough out of my earnings to
set up a school some day in a little house rented by myself. "

"A mean nutriment for the spirit to exist on: and sitting in that window-
seat (you see I know your habits )--"

"You have learned them from the servants. "

"Ah! you think yourself sharp. Well, perhaps I have: to speak truth, I
have an acquaintance with one of them, Mrs. Poole--"

I started to my feet when I heard the name.

"You have--have you? " thought I; "there is diablerie in the business
after all, then! "

"Don't be alarmed," continued the strange being; "she's a safe hand is
Mrs. Poole: close and quiet; any one may repose confidence in her. But,
as I was saying: sitting in that window-seat, do you think of nothing but
your future school? Have you no present interest in any of the company
who occupy the sofas and chairs before you? Is there not one face you
study? one figure whose movements you follow with at least curiosity? "

"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 the gifts of 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; and as to thinking well 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 favoured 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 gipsy, 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 analysed, 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
blackaviced 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. "

{She did not stoop towards me, but only gazed, leaning back in her chair:
p190. jpg}

I knelt. She did not stoop towards 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: it is susceptible;
impression follows impression through its clear sphere; where 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 favourable.

"As to the mouth, it delights at times in laughter; it is disposed to
impart all that the brain conceives; though I daresay 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: 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. '

"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!