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! Lastly, I saw Mr. Mason was submissive to Mr.

Rochester; that the impetuous will of the latter held complete sway

over the inertness of the former: the few words which had passed

between them assured me of this. It was evident that in their

former intercourse, the passive disposition of the one had been

habitually influenced by the active energy of the other: whence

then had arisen Mr. Rochester's dismay when he heard of Mr. Mason's

arrival? Why had the mere name of this unresisting individual--whom

his word now sufficed to control like a child--fallen on him, a few

hours since, as a thunderbolt might fall on an oak?




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