"On the contrary," said I, "I bolted my door."

"Then you are not in the habit of bolting your door every night

before you get into bed?"

"Fiend! she wants to know my habits, that she may lay her plans

accordingly!" Indignation again prevailed over prudence: I replied

sharply, "Hitherto I have often omitted to fasten the bolt: I did

not think it necessary. I was not aware any danger or annoyance was

to be dreaded at Thornfield Hall: but in future" (and I laid marked

stress on the words) "I shall take good care to make all secure

before I venture to lie down."

"It will be wise so to do," was her answer: "this neighbourhood is

as quiet as any I know, and I never heard of the hall being

attempted by robbers since it was a house; though there are hundreds

of pounds' worth of plate in the plate-closet, as is well known.

And you see, for such a large house, there are very few servants,

because master has never lived here much; and when he does come,

being a bachelor, he needs little waiting on: but I always think it

best to err on the safe side; a door is soon fastened, and it is as

well to have a drawn bolt between one and any mischief that may be

about. A deal of people, Miss, are for trusting all to Providence;

but I say Providence will not dispense with the means, though He

often blesses them when they are used discreetly." And here she

closed her harangue: a long one for her, and uttered with the

demureness of a Quakeress.

I still stood absolutely dumfoundered at what appeared to me her

miraculous self-possession and most inscrutable hypocrisy, when the

cook entered.

"Mrs. Poole," said she, addressing Grace, "the servants' dinner will

soon be ready: will you come down?"

"No; just put my pint of porter and bit of pudding on a tray, and

I'll carry it upstairs."

"You'll have some meat?"

"Just a morsel, and a taste of cheese, that's all."

"And the sago?"

"Never mind it at present: I shall be coming down before teatime:

I'll make it myself."

The cook here turned to me, saying that Mrs. Fairfax was waiting for

me: so I departed.

I hardly heard Mrs. Fairfax's account of the curtain conflagration

during dinner, so much was I occupied in puzzling my brains over the

enigmatical character of Grace Poole, and still more in pondering

the problem of her position at Thornfield and questioning why she

had not been given into custody that morning, or, at the very least,

dismissed from her master's service. He had almost as much as

declared his conviction of her criminality last night: what

mysterious cause withheld him from accusing her? Why had he

enjoined me, too, to secrecy? It was strange: a bold, vindictive,

and haughty gentleman seemed somehow in the power of one of the

meanest of his dependants; so much in her power, that even when she

lifted her hand against his life, he dared not openly charge her

with the attempt, much less punish her for it.




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