"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.




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