as I could. I laughed more, and my complexion looked brighter and healthier. I guess, I could say I was really happy then.
As all other people in the world Mr. Rochester had his faults. He could be rude and harsh, moody and sarcastic. But he was good at heart. And whatever sorrows and troubles tormented him, I wanted desperately to help him.
Late that night, I lay in bed wide awake thinking about Mr. Rochester. I thought about the way he had looked up at the house, seeming to suffer such agony. Eight weeks had passed since he arrived; but Mrs. Fairfax had told me he hardly ever came to Thornfield for more than a fortnight. Was he leaving soon? Spring was nearly here, and summer and autumn lay ahead. How lonely they would be for me if he went away! What was it, I wondered, that made it so hard for him to be here?
I blew out my candle, but just as I was drifting off, I heard something that made me start awake again-a low, murmuring noise, very close by. I sat up suddenly, alert and listening. After a while, I heard the clock in the hallway strike two. Just then, it seemed that someone, or something, walked past the door of my room.
“Who is there?” I asked. Then I remembered Pilot. Perhaps the kitchen door had been left open, and he had come upstairs to look for his master. This calmed me down, and I turned over again to sleep.
And there it was again! The dreadful low laugh I had heard so many times in the attic passageway! Now it seemed to be right outside my door, almost as if it came in through the keyhole. In a panic I got up, ran up to the door and drew the bolt across. Trembling, I repeated: “Who is there?”
There was a murmur followed by footsteps moving along the hall and up the attic stairs. “Was that Grace Poole? Is she possessed with a devil?” Had she started wandering the house by night? I decided to wake Mrs. Fairfax, to tell her about the laugh and steps.
Still shaking all over with fear[24], I put on a dress and a shawl, and unbolted my door. There was a candle burning just outside. I was also amazed to find the air quite dim, as if filled with smoke. Then I was more aware of the strong smell of burning.
As I soon saw, the smoke was coming from Mr. Rochester's room. The door was ajar, and I ran in. I thought no more of Mrs. Fairfax. I thought no more of Grace Poole.
Through the smoke I saw flames on the curtains of the bed, and Mr. Rochester lying motionless, in deep sleep.
“Wake up!” I shook him, but he only murmured and turned- the smoke had dulled his senses. I rushed to his basin, where I found a water jug as well. Both were full of water and I lifted them up in turn, carried them over to the bed and drenched the curtains and blankets. I flew back to my own room, brought my own water jug and extinguished the fire.
The hiss of the dying fire and the splash of water woke Mr. Rochester at last.
“Is there a flood?” he cried.
“No, sir,' I answered, 'but there has been a fire. Get up. You are wet now. I will fetch you a candle.”
“Is that Jane Eyre?” he demanded. “What have you done with me, witch? Have you plotted to drown me?”
I fetched the candle from outside my door. When I returned, Mr. Rochester was wearing his dressing gown. He took the candle from me and inspected the blackened wet bed.
“What happened?” he asked. “Who did this?”
I told him everything-how I had heard the murmur and the strange laugh, which I knew from before, and footsteps going up to the attic, and how the candle had been left outside my room.
“Should I fetch Mrs. Fairfax?” I asked.
“No-no, don't fetch anyone,” he said. “Stay here in this chair, and wait for me. I am going upstairs for a minute, and I will be back soon. Don't move.”
I waited there in the darkness for what seemed like hours. Soon he came back, looking gloomy.
“I have sorted it all out,” he said. He stared at me. “I forget whether you said you saw anything when you opened your chamber door.”
“No, sir, only the candlestick on the ground.”
“But you heard an odd laugh? You have heard that laugh before, I think, or something like it?”
“Yes, sir: there is a woman who sews here, called Grace Poole, – she laughs in that way.”
“Grace Poole-you have guessed it. She's-well, she's a little eccentric. Meantime, I am glad that you are the only person, besides myself, acquainted with the precise details of tonight's incident. Say nothing about it. I will take care of it myself.”
“Good-night then, sir.”
He seemed surprised. “What!” he exclaimed, “are you quitting me already, and in that way?”
“You just said I should go back to my room, sir.”
“Yes, but not in that brief, dry fashion. Why, you have saved my life! Let us at least shake hands.”
He held out his hand. I gave him mine. He took it first in one, them in both his own.
“You have saved my life: I have a pleasure in owing you so immense a debt. I cannot say more.”
“Good-night again, sir. There is no debt, sir,” I said. “I am glad I happened to be awake, and was able to help[25].”
But he would not let go of my hand.
“I knew…” he said, “I knew as soon as I saw you, that you would do me good in some way.” He stared at me intensely.
“I think I hear Mrs. Fairfax stirring, sir,” I said.
“Well, then you must go,” he said, releasing me.
Back in my bed, I could not sleep for a second. My brain turned over and over the strange and dramatic events of the night, until I was exhausted. Feelings of terror, when I thought of what might have happened, constantly changed places with joy, when I thought of the touch of his hand, and the look I had seen in his eyes. Too excited to rest, I rose as soon as day dawned.
Chapter 17
I both wished and feared to see Mr. Rochester on the day, which followed this sleepless night. I wanted to hear his voice again, yet feared to meet his eye. But the morning passed just as usual. Nothing interrupted the studies. Later I heard Mrs. Fairfax and the servants talking about the fire as if it had been nothing but an accident, which Mr. Rochester himself had dealt with.
“What a blessing he was not burnt in his bed!” they exclaimed. “It is always dangerous to keep a candle lit at night.” “It's a mercy he thought of using the water jug.”
When I walked past Mr. Rochester's room, I saw that everything had been cleaned up. The curtains were gone from the bed, and Leah was busy scrubbing the smoke-stained window panes.
I was about to go in and speak to her, when I saw someone else sitting in the room. It was Grace Poole. She was sewing new bed curtains, and looked as plain and poker-faced as ever. How could she still be here, after what she had done last night? I was sure she would have been dismissed immediately. I stepped into the room.
“Good morning, Grace,”
still shaking all over with fear – все еще дрожа от страха
I am glad I happened to be awake, and was able to help. – Я рада, что не спала и смогла помочь.
