Chapter 16 Fire!

1 Mr Rochester did, on a future occasion, explain Adèle's story. One afternoon I was with her in the garden, and while she played with the dog Pilot, he asked me to walk up and down a long avenue in sight of her.

2 He told me she was the daughter of a French dancer, whom he had once loved, but who had deceived him. She had gone away with a musician, and he had taken pity on this child whom she had left behind.

3 The confidence that he showed me seemed a mark of respect, and I accepted it as such. His manner towards me had for several weeks been less changeable. He did not have moments of coldness. When he met me unexpectedly, the meeting seemed to give him pleasure, and he always had a word and a smile for me. When I was sent for by formal invitation to his presence, I was honoured with a warm welcome. I, indeed, talked very little, but I enjoyed his conversation and his knowledge of the world.

4 His ease of manner, his friendliness, made me like him, and I felt at times as if he were my relation rather than my master. Yet he was still commanding sometimes. I did not mind this: I saw that it was his way. I became so happy with this new interest added to my life, that I no longer wished for relations, and my health improved.

5 And was Mr Rochester now ugly in my eyes? No. Grateful feelings had made his face the object that I most liked to see, and his presence in a room was more cheering than the brightest fire. I still recognised his faults, but it seemed to me that the angry look that sometimes came over his face, was a remembrance of some wrong done to him in the past, and I was sorry for him.

6 I was thinking about all this one night as I prepared myself for bed. I lay down, but could not rest. I was turning over in my mind the fact that he had told me he hated Thornfield. According to Mrs Fairfax, he seldom stayed more than two weeks at a time: yet he had now remained two months. The house would seem empty without him.

7 I hardly know whether I slept or not after these thoughts, but I moved suddenly on hearing a faint murmur, peculiar and low, which sounded, I thought, just above me. I sat up in bed, listening. The sound died away.

8 I tried again to sleep, but my heart beat anxiously. The clock, far down in the hall, struck two. Just then it seemed that the door of my room was touched: as if fingers had passed over the wood in feeling a way along the dark passage outside. I said: 'Who is there?' Nothing answered. I became cold with fear.

9 All at once I remembered that it might be Pilot, who, when the kitchen door chanced to be left open, sometimes found his way up to Mr Rochester's room. The idea calmed me a little, and I lay down, and as there was now an unbroken silence, I began to feel the return of sleep.

10 A dream was just approaching, when there was a low, deep, evil laugh, the laugh of a lost spirit, sounded, so it seemed, right at the keyhole of my door. The sound was repeated. My first idea was to rise and fasten my door; my next, to cry out: 'Who is there?'

11 Something groaned. Footsteps moved away up the passage towards the third storey staircase. A door had lately been made to close the entrance of that staircase; I heard it open and shut.

12 Was that Grace Poole? It was impossible now to remain by myself. I must go to Mrs Fairfax. I dressed, unfastened the door with a trembling hand, and opened it. To my surprise, there was a candle on the floor outside, and I was even more surprised to observe that the air was quite thick, as if filled with smoke. I became conscious of a strong smell of burning.

13 Something moved. It was a door left open. It was Mr Rochester's door, and the smoke rushed out from it in a cloud. I thought no more of Grace Poole, or of the laugh. In an instant, I was in the bedroom. Tongues of flame were moving round the bed. The curtains were on fire. Mr Rochester lay stretched motionless, in a deep sleep.

14 'Wake up! Wake up!' I cried. I shook him, but he only murmured and turned: the smoke had made him half unconscious. Not a moment could be lost. I rushed to his basin and jug. Fortunately, both were filled with water. I lifted them with difficulty, flooded the bed and the sleeper, flew back into my own room, brought my own water-jug, and with God's help succeeded in putting out the flames.

15 Mr Rochester awakened at last, and I heard him using bad language at finding himself in a pool of water.

16 'Is there a flood?' he asked.

17 'No, sir,' I answered. 'But there has been a fire. Get up, do; it is out now.'

18 'In the name of all that is wonderful, is that Jane Eyre?' he demanded. 'What have you done with me, witch? Did you plan to drown me?'

19 'Someone has planned something. You cannot find out too soon who and what it is.'

20 He searched for dry clothes, and meanwhile I brought the candle which still remained in the passage. He took it from my hand, held it up, and examined the bed, all blackened and burnt, the wet sheets and the carpet all around swimming with water. I described shortly what had happened.

21 He listened very seriously. His face expressed more trouble than astonishment. He did not speak immediately when I had ended.

22 'Shall I call Mrs Fairfax?' I asked.

23 'Mrs Fairfax? No, what would you call her for? Let her sleep in peace.'

24 'Then I will fetch the servants.'

25 'Not at all. Just be still. Take my coat, sit down in the armchair, and keep your feet out of the wet. I am going to pay a visit to the third storey. I shall take the candle. Remain where you are. Don't move, remember, or call anyone.'

26 He went. I watched the light disappear as he moved softly along the passage. A very long time went by. I became tired. It was cold, and I did not see the use of staying. At last he re-entered, pale and gloomy.

27 'I have found it all out,' he said, setting his candle down. 'It is as I thought.'

28 'How, sir?'

29 He made no reply, but stood looking at the ground. At the end of a few minutes, he inquired in a rather peculiar voice:

30 'I forget whether you said you saw anything when you opened your door.'

31 'No, sir, only the candle outside.'

32 'But you heard a strange laugh? You have heard that laugh before, I should think, or something like it?'

33 'Yes, sir. There is a woman who sews here, called Grace Poole—she laughs in that way.'

34 'That's right, Grace Poole—you have guessed it. Well, I shall think over the matter. Say nothing about it: I will give some excuse for this state of affairs'—pointing to the bed—'and now return to your own room.'

35 'Good night, then, sir.'

36 'What? Are you leaving me already!'

37 'You said I might go, sir.'

38 'But not without some thanks. Why, you have saved my life. At least shake hands.'

39 He held out his hand. I gave him mine. He took it first in one, then in both his own.

40 'I have pleasure in owing you so immense a debt. I could not bear to owe it to anyone else in the world.'

41 He paused and gazed at me. Words trembled on his lips—then he controlled himself.

42 'There is no debt, sir.'

43 'I knew,' he continued, 'that you would do me good in some way. I saw it in your eyes when I first met you. Their expression and their smile did not'—again he stopped—'did not'—he went on hastily—'strike such delight in my heart for nothing. My dearest rescuer, good night!'

44 Strange energy was in his voice, strange fire in his look.

45 'I am glad that I happened to be awake,' I said, and then I was going.

46 'What! You will go?'

47 'I am cold, sir.'

48 'Cold? Yes, and standing in a pool. Go then, Jane, go!' But he still had my hand. I thought of an excuse.

49 'I think I hear Mrs Fairfax move, sir.'

50 He loosened his fingers, and I went.

51 I returned to my bed, but never thought of sleep. My mind was a mixture of joy and uneasiness, judgment struggling against passion. Too feverish to rest, I rose as soon as day came.