Reader, it was on Monday night--near midnight--that I too had

received the mysterious summons: those were the very words by which

I replied to it. I listened to Mr. Rochester's narrative, but made

no disclosure in return. The coincidence struck me as too awful and

inexplicable to be communicated or discussed. If I told anything,

my tale would be such as must necessarily make a profound impression

on the mind of my hearer: and that mind, yet from its sufferings

too prone to gloom, needed not the deeper shade of the supernatural.

I kept these things then, and pondered them in my heart.

"You cannot now wonder," continued my master, "that when you rose

upon me so unexpectedly last night, I had difficulty in believing

you any other than a mere voice and vision, something that would

melt to silence and annihilation, as the midnight whisper and

mountain echo had melted before. Now, I thank God! I know it to be

otherwise. Yes, I thank God!"

He put me off his knee, rose, and reverently lifting his hat from

his brow, and bending his sightless eyes to the earth, he stood in

mute devotion. Only the last words of the worship were audible.

"I thank my Maker, that, in the midst of judgment, he has remembered

mercy. I humbly entreat my Redeemer to give me strength to lead

henceforth a purer life than I have done hitherto!"

Then he stretched his hand out to be led. I took that dear hand,

held it a moment to my lips, then let it pass round my shoulder:

being so much lower of stature than he, I served both for his prop

and guide. We entered the wood, and wended homeward.




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