牛津書蟲第6級(jí)6-01.Jane Eyre Chapter 25

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Chapter25

Themonthofcourtshiphadwasted:itsverylasthourswerebeingnumbered.Therewasnoputtingoffthedaythatadvanced—thebridalday;andallpreparationsforitsarrivalwerecomplete.I,atleast,hadnothingmoretodo:thereweremytrunks,packed,locked,corded,rangedinarowalongthewallofmylittlechamber;to-morrow,atthistime,theywouldbefarontheirroadtoLondon:andsoshouldI(D.V.),—orrather,notI,butoneJaneRochester,apersonwhomasyetIknewnot.Thecardsofaddressaloneremainedtonailon:theylay,fourlittlesquares,inthedrawer.Mr.Rochesterhadhimselfwrittenthedirection,“Mrs.Rochester,—Hotel,London,”oneach:Icouldnotpersuademyselftoaffixthem,ortohavethemaffixed.Mrs.Rochester!Shedidnotexist:shewouldnotbeborntillto-morrow,sometimeaftereighto’clocka.m.;andIwouldwaittobeassuredshehadcomeintotheworldalivebeforeIassignedtoherallthatproperty.Itwasenoughthatinyondercloset,oppositemydressing-table,garmentssaidtobehershadalreadydisplacedmyblackstuffLowoodfrockandstrawbonnet:fornottomeappertainedthatsuitofweddingraiment;thepearl-colouredrobe,thevapouryveilpendentfromtheusurpedportmanteau.Ishuttheclosettoconcealthestrange,wraith-likeapparelitcontained;which,atthiseveninghour—nineo’clock—gaveoutcertainlyamostghostlyshimmerthroughtheshadowofmyapartment.“Iwillleaveyoubyyourself,whitedream,”

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Isaid.“Iamfeverish:Ihearthewindblowing:Iwillgooutofdoorsandfeelit.”

Itwasnotonlythehurryofpreparationthatmademefeverish;notonlytheanticipationofthegreatchange—thenewlifewhichwastocommenceto-morrow:boththesecircumstanceshadtheirshare,doubtless,inproducingthatrestless,excitedmoodwhichhurriedmeforthatthislatehourintothedarkeninggrounds:butathirdcauseinfluencedmymindmorethanthey.

Ihadatheartastrangeandanxiousthought.SomethinghadhappenedwhichIcouldnotcomprehend;nooneknewoforhadseentheeventbutmyself:ithadtakenplacetheprecedingnight.Mr.Rochesterthatnightwasabsentfromhome;norwasheyetreturned:businesshadcalledhimtoasmallestateoftwoorthreefarmshepossessedthirtymilesoff—businessitwasrequisiteheshouldsettleinperson,previoustohismeditateddeparturefromEngland.Iwaitednowhisreturn;eagertodisburthenmymind,andtoseekofhimthesolutionoftheenigmathatperplexedme.Staytillhecomes,reader;and,whenIdisclosemysecrettohim,youshallsharetheconfidence.

Isoughttheorchard,driventoitsshelterbythewind,whichalldayhadblownstrongandfullfromthesouth,without,however,bringingaspeckofrain.Insteadofsubsidingasnightdrewon,itseemedtoaugmentitsrushanddeepenitsroar:thetreesblewsteadfastlyoneway,neverwrithinground,andscarcely

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tossingbacktheirboughsonceinanhour;socontinuouswasthestrainbendingtheirbranchyheadsnorthward—thecloudsdriftedfrompoletopole,fastfollowing,massonmass:noglimpseofblueskyhadbeenvisiblethatJulyday.

ItwasnotwithoutacertainwildpleasureIranbeforethewind,deliveringmytroubleofmindtothemeasurelessair-torrentthunderingthroughspace.Descendingthelaurelwalk,Ifacedthewreckofthechestnut-tree;itstoodupblackandriven:thetrunk,splitdownthecentre,gaspedghastly.Theclovenhalveswerenotbrokenfromeachother,forthefirmbaseandstrongrootskeptthemunsunderedbelow;thoughcommunityofvitalitywasdestroyed—thesapcouldflownomore:theirgreatboughsoneachsideweredead,andnextwinter’stempestswouldbesuretofelloneorbothtoearth:asyet,however,theymightbesaidtoformonetree—aruin,butanentireruin.

“Youdidrighttoholdfasttoeachother,”Isaid:asifthemonster-splinterswerelivingthings,andcouldhearme.“Ithink,scathedasyoulook,andcharredandscorched,theremustbealittlesenseoflifeinyouyet,risingoutofthatadhesionatthefaithful,honestroots:youwillneverhavegreenleavesmore—nevermoreseebirdsmakingnestsandsingingidylsinyourboughs;thetimeofpleasureandloveisoverwithyou:butyouarenotdesolate:eachofyouhasacomradetosympathisewithhiminhisdecay.”AsIlookedupatthem,themoonappearedmomentarilyinthatpartoftheskywhichfilledtheirfissure;herdiskwasblood-

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redandhalfovercast;sheseemedtothrowonmeonebewildered,drearyglance,andburiedherselfagaininstantlyinthedeepdriftofcloud.Thewindfell,forasecond,roundThornfield;butfarawayoverwoodandwater,pouredawild,melancholywail:itwassadtolistento,andIranoffagain.

HereandthereIstrayedthroughtheorchard,gathereduptheappleswithwhichthegrassroundthetreerootswasthicklystrewn;thenIemployedmyselfindividingtheripefromtheunripe;Icarriedthemintothehouseandputthemawayinthestore-room.ThenIrepairedtothelibrarytoascertainwhetherthefirewaslit,for,thoughsummer,IknewonsuchagloomyeveningMr.Rochesterwouldliketoseeacheerfulhearthwhenhecamein:yes,thefirehadbeenkindledsometime,andburntwell.Iplacedhisarm-chairbythechimney-corner:Iwheeledthetablenearit:Iletdownthecurtain,andhadthecandlesbroughtinreadyforlighting.Morerestlessthanever,whenIhadcompletedthesearrangementsIcouldnotsitstill,norevenremaininthehouse:alittletime-pieceintheroomandtheoldclockinthehallsimultaneouslystruckten.

“Howlateitgrows!”Isaid.“Iwillrundowntothegates:itismoonlightatintervals;Icanseeagoodwayontheroad.Hemaybecomingnow,andtomeethimwillsavesomeminutesofsuspense.”

Thewindroaredhighinthegreattreeswhichemboweredthegates;buttheroadasfarasIcouldsee,totherighthandandtheleft,wasallstillandsolitary:

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savefortheshadowsofcloudscrossingitatintervalsasthemoonlookedout,itwasbutalongpaleline,unvariedbyonemovingspeck.

ApuerileteardimmedmyeyewhileIlooked—atearofdisappointmentandimpatience;ashamedofit,Iwipeditaway.Ilingered;themoonshutherselfwhollywithinherchamber,anddrewclosehercurtainofdensecloud:thenightgrewdark;raincamedrivingfastonthegale.

“Iwishhewouldcome!Iwishhewouldcome!”Iexclaimed,seizedwithhypochondriacforeboding.Ihadexpectedhisarrivalbeforetea;nowitwasdark:whatcouldkeephim?Hadanaccidenthappened?Theeventoflastnightagainrecurredtome.Iinterpreteditasawarningofdisaster.Ifearedmyhopesweretoobrighttoberealised;andIhadenjoyedsomuchblisslatelythatIimaginedmyfortunehadpasseditsmeridian,andmustnowdecline.

“Well,Icannotreturntothehouse,”Ithought;“Icannotsitbythefireside,whileheisabroadininclementweather:bettertiremylimbsthanstrainmyheart;Iwillgoforwardandmeethim.”

Isetout;Iwalkedfast,butnotfar:ereIhadmeasuredaquarterofamile,Iheardthetrampofhoofs;ahorsemancameon,fullgallop;adogranbyhisside.Awaywithevilpresentiment!Itwashe:herehewas,mountedonMesrour,followedbyPilot.Hesawme;forthemoonhadopenedabluefieldinthesky,androde

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initwaterybright:hetookhishatoff,andwaveditroundhishead.Inowrantomeethim.

“There!”heexclaimed,ashestretchedouthishandand

bentfromthesaddle:“Youcan’tdowithoutme,thatisevident.Steponmyboot-toe;givemebothhands:mount!”

Iobeyed:joymademeagile:Isprangupbeforehim.AheartykissingIgotforawelcome,andsomeboastfultriumph,whichIswallowedaswellasIcould.Hecheckedhimselfinhisexultationtodemand,“Butisthereanythingthematter,Janet,thatyoucometomeetmeatsuchanhour?Isthereanythingwrong?”“No,butIthoughtyouwouldnevercome.Icouldnotbeartowaitinthehouseforyou,especiallywiththisrainandwind.”“Rainandwind,indeed!Yes,youaredrippinglikeamermaid;pullmycloakroundyou:butIthinkyouarefeverish,Jane:bothyourcheekandhandareburninghot.Iaskagain,isthereanythingthematter?“Nothingnow;Iamneitherafraidnorunhappy.”“Thenyouhavebeenboth?”“Rather:butI’lltellyouallaboutitby-and-bye,sir;andIdaresayyouwillonlylaughatmeformypains.”

“I’lllaughatyouheartilywhento-morrowispast;till

thenIdarenot:myprizeisnotcertain.Thisisyou,whohavebeenasslipperyasaneelthislastmonth,

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andasthornyasabriar-rose?IcouldnotlayafingeranywherebutIwaspricked;andnowIseemtohavegatheredupastraylambinmyarms.Youwanderedoutofthefoldtoseekyourshepherd,didyou,Jane?”

“Iwantedyou:butdon’tboast.HereweareatThornfield:nowletmegetdown.”

Helandedmeonthepavement.AsJohntookhishorse,andhefollowedmeintothehall,hetoldmetomakehasteandputsomethingdryon,andthenreturntohiminthelibrary;andhestoppedme,asImadeforthestaircase,toextortapromisethatIwouldnotbelong:norwasIlong;infiveminutesIrejoinedhim.Ifoundhimatsupper.

“Takeaseatandbearmecompany,Jane:pleaseGod,itisthelastmealbutoneyouwilleatatThornfieldHallforalongtime.”

Isatdownnearhim,buttoldhimIcouldnoteat.“Isitbecauseyouhavetheprospectofajourneybeforeyou,Jane?IsitthethoughtsofgoingtoLondonthattakesawayyourappetite?”

“Icannotseemyprospectsclearlyto-night,sir;andIhardlyknowwhatthoughtsIhaveinmyhead.Everythinginlifeseemsunreal.”

“Exceptme:Iamsubstantialenough—touchme.”

“You,sir,arethemostphantom-likeofall:youareameredream.”

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Heheldouthishand,laughing.“Isthatadream?”saidhe,placingitclosetomyeyes.Hehadarounded,muscular,andvigoroushand,aswellasalong,strongarm.

“Yes;thoughItouchit,itisadream,”saidI,asIputitdownfrombeforemyface.“Sir,haveyoufinished

supper?”

“Yes,Jane.”

Irangthebellandorderedawaythetray.Whenwewereagainalone,Istirredthefire,andthentookalow

seatatmymaster’sknee.

“Itisnearmidnight,”Isaid.

“Yes:butremember,Jane,youpromisedtowakewithmethenightbeforemywedding.”

“Idid;andIwillkeepmypromise,foranhourortwoatleast:Ihavenowishtogotobed.”

“Areallyourarrangementscomplete?”

“All,sir.”

“Andonmypartlikewise,”hereturned,“Ihavesettledeverything;andweshallleaveThornfieldto-morrow,

withinhalf-an-hourafterourreturnfromchurch.”“Verywell,sir.”

“Withwhatanextraordinarysmileyouutteredthatword—‘verywell,’Jane!Whatabrightspotofcolour

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youhaveoneachcheek!andhowstrangelyyoureyesglitter!Areyouwell?”

“IbelieveIam.”

“Believe!Whatisthematter?Tellmewhatyoufeel.”

“Icouldnot,sir:nowordscouldtellyouwhatIfeel.Iwishthispresenthourwouldneverend:whoknowswithwhatfatethenextmaycomecharged?”

“Thisishypochondria,Jane.Youhavebeenover-excited,orover-fatigued.”

“Doyou,sir,feelcalmandhappy?”

“Calm?—no:buthappy—totheheart’score.”

Ilookedupathimtoreadthesignsofblissinhisface:itwasardentandflushed.

“Givemeyourconfidence,Jane,”hesaid:“relieveyourmindofanyweightthatoppressesit,byimpartingittome.Whatdoyoufear?--thatIshallnotproveagoodhusband?”

“Itistheideafarthestfrommythoughts.”

“Areyouapprehensiveofthenewsphereyouareabouttoenter?—ofthenewlifeintowhichyouarepassing?”

“No.”

“Youpuzzleme,Jane:yourlookandtoneofsorrowfulaudacityperplexandpainme.Iwantanexplanation.”

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“Then,sir,listen.Youwerefromhomelastnight?”

“Iwas:Iknowthat;andyouhintedawhileagoatsomethingwhichhadhappenedinmyabsence:-nothing,probably,ofconsequence;but,inshort,ithasdisturbedyou.Letmehearit.Mrs.Fairfaxhassaidsomething,perhaps?oryouhaveoverheardtheservantstalk?—yoursensitiveself-respecthasbeenwounded?”

“No,sir.”Itstrucktwelve—Iwaitedtillthetime-piecehadconcludeditssilverchime,andtheclockitshoarse,vibratingstroke,andthenIproceeded.

“AlldayyesterdayIwasverybusy,andveryhappyinmyceaselessbustle;forIamnot,asyouseemtothink,troubledbyanyhauntingfearsaboutthenewsphere,etcetera:Ithinkitagloriousthingtohavethehopeoflivingwithyou,becauseIloveyou.No,sir,don’tcaressmenow—letmetalkundisturbed.YesterdayItrustedwellinProvidence,andbelievedthateventswereworkingtogetherforyourgoodandmine:itwasafineday,ifyourecollect—thecalmnessoftheairandskyforbadeapprehensionsrespectingyoursafetyorcomfortonyourjourney.Iwalkedalittlewhileonthepavementaftertea,thinkingofyou;andIbeheldyouinimaginationsonearme,Iscarcelymissedyouractualpresence.Ithoughtofthelifethatlaybeforeme—YOURlife,sir—anexistencemoreexpansiveandstirringthanmyown:asmuchmoresoasthedepthsoftheseatowhichthebrookrunsarethantheshallowsofitsownstraitchannel.Iwonderedwhymoralistscall

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thisworldadrearywilderness:formeitblossomedlikearose.Justatsunset,theairturnedcoldandthesky

cloudy:Iwentin,Sophiecalledmeupstairstolookatmywedding-dress,whichtheyhadjustbrought;andunderitintheboxIfoundyourpresent—theveilwhich,inyourprincelyextravagance,yousentforfrom

London:resolved,Isuppose,sinceIwouldnothavejewels,tocheatmeintoacceptingsomethingascostly.IsmiledasIunfoldedit,anddevisedhowIwouldteaseyouaboutyouraristocratictastes,andyoureffortstomasqueyourplebeianbrideintheattributesofapeeress.IthoughhowIwouldcarrydowntoyouthesquareofunembroideredblondIhadmyselfpreparedasacoveringformylow-bornhead,andaskifthatwasnotgoodenoughforawomanwhocouldbringherhusbandneitherfortune,beauty,norconnections.Isawplainlyhowyouwouldlook;andheardyourimpetuousrepublicananswers,andyourhaughtydisavowalofanynecessityonyourparttoaugmentyourwealth,orelevateyourstanding,bymarryingeitherapurseoracoronet.”

“Howwellyoureadme,youwitch!”interposedMr.

Rochester:“butwhatdidyoufindintheveilbesidesitsembroidery?Didyoufindpoison,oradagger,thatyoulooksomournfulnow?”“No,no,sir;besidesthedelicacyandrichnessofthefabric,IfoundnothingsaveFairfaxRochester’spride;andthatdidnotscareme,becauseIamusedtothesightofthedemon.But,sir,asitgrewdark,thewind

rose:itblewyesterdayevening,notasitblowsnow—

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wildandhigh—but‘withasullen,moaningsound’farmoreeerie.Iwishedyouwereathome.Icameintothisroom,andthesightoftheemptychairandfirelesshearthchilledme.ForsometimeafterIwenttobed,Icouldnotsleep—asenseofanxiousexcitementdistressedme.Thegalestillrising,seemedtomyeartomuffleamournfulunder-sound;whetherinthehouseorabroadIcouldnotatfirsttell,butitrecurred,doubtfulyetdolefulateverylull;atlastImadeoutitmustbesomedoghowlingatadistance.Iwasgladwhenitceased.Onsleeping,Icontinuedindreamstheideaofadarkandgustynight.Icontinuedalsothewishtobewithyou,andexperiencedastrange,regretfulconsciousnessofsomebarrierdividingus.Duringallmyfirstsleep,Iwasfollowingthewindingsofanunknownroad;totalobscurityenvironedme;rainpeltedme;Iwasburdenedwiththechargeofalittlechild:averysmallcreature,tooyoungandfeebletowalk,andwhichshiveredinmycoldarms,andwailedpiteouslyinmyear.Ithought,sir,thatyouwereontheroadalongwaybeforeme;andIstrainedeverynervetoovertakeyou,andmadeeffortonefforttoutteryournameandentreatyoutostop—butmymovementswerefettered,andmyvoicestilldiedawayinarticulate;whileyou,Ifelt,withdrewfartherandfarthereverymoment.”

“Andthesedreamsweighonyourspiritsnow,Jane,whenIamclosetoyou?Littlenervoussubject!Forgetvisionarywoe,andthinkonlyofrealhappiness!Yousayyouloveme,Janet:yes—Iwillnotforgetthat;and

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youcannotdenyit.THOSEwordsdidnotdieinarticulateonyourlips.Iheardthemclearandsoft:athoughttoosolemnperhaps,butsweetasmusic—‘Ithinkitisagloriousthingtohavethehopeoflivingwithyou,Edward,becauseIloveyou.’Doyouloveme,Jane?—repeatit.”

“Ido,sir—Ido,withmywholeheart.”

“Well,”hesaid,aftersomeminutes’silence,“itisstrange;butthatsentencehaspenetratedmybreastpainfully.Why?Ithinkbecauseyousaiditwithsuchanearnest,religiousenergy,andbecauseyourupwardgazeatmenowistheverysublimeoffaith,truth,anddevotion:itistoomuchasifsomespiritwerenearme.Lookwicked,Jane:asyouknowwellhowtolook:coinoneofyourwild,shy,provokingsmiles;tellmeyouhateme—teaseme,vexme;doanythingbutmoveme:Iwouldratherbeincensedthansaddened.”

“Iwillteaseyouandvexyoutoyourheart’scontent,whenIhavefinishedmytale:buthearmetotheend.”

“Ithought,Jane,youhadtoldmeall.IthoughtIhadfoundthesourceofyourmelancholyinadream.”

Ishookmyhead.“What!istheremore?ButIwillnotbelieveittobeanythingimportant.Iwarnyouofincredulitybeforehand.Goon.”

Thedisquietudeofhisair,thesomewhatapprehensiveimpatienceofhismanner,surprisedme:butIproceeded.

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“Idreamtanotherdream,sir:thatThornfieldHallwasadrearyruin,theretreatofbatsandowls.Ithoughtthatofallthestatelyfrontnothingremainedbutashell-likewall,veryhighandveryfragile-looking.Iwandered,onamoonlightnight,throughthegrass-grownenclosurewithin:hereIstumbledoveramarblehearth,andthereoverafallenfragmentofcornice.Wrappedupinashawl,Istillcarriedtheunknownlittlechild:Imightnotlayitdownanywhere,howevertiredweremyarms—howevermuchitsweightimpededmyprogress,Imustretainit.Iheardthegallopofahorseatadistanceontheroad;Iwassureitwasyou;andyouweredepartingformanyyearsandforadistantcountry.Iclimbedthethinwallwithfranticperiloushaste,eagertocatchoneglimpseofyoufromthetop:thestonesrolledfromundermyfeet,theivybranchesIgraspedgaveway,thechildclungroundmyneckinterror,andalmoststrangledme;atlastIgainedthesummit.Isawyoulikeaspeckonawhitetrack,lesseningeverymoment.TheblastblewsostrongIcouldnotstand.Isatdownonthenarrowledge;Ihushedthescaredinfantinmylap:youturnedanangleoftheroad:Ibentforwardtotakealastlook;thewallcrumbled;Iwasshaken;thechildrolledfrommyknee,Ilostmy

balance,fell,andwoke.”

“Now,Jane,thatisall.”

“Allthepreface,sir;thetaleisyettocome.Onwaking,agleamdazzledmyeyes;Ithought—Oh,itisdaylight!ButIwasmistaken;itwasonlycandlelight.Sophie,Isupposed,hadcomein.Therewasalightinthe

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dressing-table,andthedoorofthecloset,where,beforegoingtobed,Ihadhungmywedding-dressandveil,stoodopen;Iheardarustlingthere.Iasked,‘Sophie,whatareyoudoing?’Nooneanswered;butaformemergedfromthecloset;ittookthelight,helditaloft,andsurveyedthegarmentspendentfromtheportmanteau.‘Sophie!Sophie!’Iagaincried:andstillitwassilent.Ihadrisenupinbed,Ibentforward:firstsurprise,thenbewilderment,cameoverme;andthenmybloodcreptcoldthroughmyveins.Mr.Rochester,thiswasnotSophie,itwasnotLeah,itwasnotMrs.Fairfax:itwasnot—no,Iwassureofit,andamstill—itwasnoteventhatstrangewoman,GracePoole.”

“Itmusthavebeenoneofthem,”interruptedmymaster.

“No,sir,Isolemnlyassureyoutothecontrary.TheshapestandingbeforemehadnevercrossedmyeyeswithintheprecinctsofThornfieldHallbefore;the

height,thecontourwerenewtome.”

“Describeit,Jane.”

“Itseemed,sir,awoman,tallandlarge,withthickanddarkhairhanginglongdownherback.Iknownotwhatdressshehadon:itwaswhiteandstraight;but

whethergown,sheet,orshroud,Icannottell.”“Didyouseeherface?”

“Notatfirst.Butpresentlyshetookmyveilfromitsplace;shehelditup,gazedatitlong,andthenshe

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threwitoverherownhead,andturnedtothemirror.AtthatmomentIsawthereflectionofthevisageand

featuresquitedistinctlyinthedarkoblongglass.”“Andhowwerethey?”

“Fearfulandghastlytome—oh,sir,Ineversawafacelikeit!Itwasadiscolouredface—itwasasavageface.IwishIcouldforgettherolloftheredeyesandthe

fearfulblackenedinflationofthelineaments!”“Ghostsareusuallypale,Jane.”

“This,sir,waspurple:thelipswereswelledanddark;thebrowfurrowed:theblackeyebrowswidelyraisedoverthebloodshoteyes.ShallItellyouofwhatit

remindedme?”

“Youmay.”

“OfthefoulGermanspectre—theVampyre.”“Ah!—whatdiditdo?”

“Sir,itremovedmyveilfromitsgaunthead,rentitintwoparts,andflingingbothonthefloor,trampledon

them.”

“Afterwards?”

“Itdrewasidethewindow-curtainandlookedout;perhapsitsawdawnapproaching,for,takingthecandle,itretreatedtothedoor.Justatmybedside,thefigurestopped:thefieryeyesglareduponme—shethrustuphercandleclosetomyface,andextinguished

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itundermyeyes.Iwasawareherluridvisageflamedovermine,andIlostconsciousness:forthesecondtimeinmylife—onlythesecondtime—Ibecameinsensiblefromterror.”

“Whowaswithyouwhenyourevived?”

“Noone,sir,butthebroadday.Irose,bathedmyheadandfaceinwater,drankalongdraught;feltthatthoughenfeebledIwasnotill,anddeterminedthattononebutyouwouldIimpartthisvision.Now,sir,tellmewhoandwhatthatwomanwas?”

“Thecreatureofanover-stimulatedbrain;thatiscertain.Imustbecarefulofyou,mytreasure:nerveslikeyourswerenotmadeforroughhandling.”

“Sir,dependonit,mynerveswerenotinfault;thethingwasreal:thetransactionactuallytookplace.”

“Andyourpreviousdreams,weretheyrealtoo?IsThornfieldHallaruin?AmIseveredfromyoubyinsuperableobstacles?AmIleavingyouwithoutatear

—withoutakiss—withoutaword?”

“Notyet.”

“AmIabouttodoit?Why,thedayisalreadycommencedwhichistobindusindissolubly;andwhenweareonceunited,thereshallbenorecurrenceofthesementalterrors:Iguaranteethat.”

“Mentalterrors,sir!IwishIcouldbelievethemtobeonlysuch:Iwishitmorenowthanever;sinceevenyou

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cannotexplaintomethemysteryofthatawfulvisitant.”

“AndsinceIcannotdoit,Jane,itmusthavebeenunreal.”

“But,sir,whenIsaidsotomyselfonrisingthismorning,andwhenIlookedroundtheroomtogathercourageandcomfortfromthecheerfulaspectofeachfamiliarobjectinfulldaylight,there—onthecarpet—Isawwhatgavethedistinctlietomyhypothesis,—theveil,tornfromtoptobottomintwohalves!”

IfeltMr.Rochesterstartandshudder;hehastilyflunghisarmsroundme.“ThankGod!”heexclaimed,“thatifanythingmalignantdidcomenearyoulastnight,itwasonlytheveilthatwasharmed.Oh,tothinkwhatmighthavehappened!”

Hedrewhisbreathshort,andstrainedmesoclosetohim,Icouldscarcelypant.Aftersomeminutes’silence,hecontinued,cheerily-

“Now,Janet,I’llexplain