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"Good-night again, sir. There is no debt, benefit, burden, obligation, in the case."

"I knew," he continued, "you would do me good in some way, at some time;-I saw it in your eyes when I first beheld you: their expression and smile did not"-(again he stopped)-"did not" (he proceeded hastily) "strike delight to my very inmost heart so for nothing.

People talk of natural sympathies; I have heard of good genii: there are grains of truth in the wildest fable.

My cherished preserver, goodnight!"

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

"I am glad I happened to be awake," I said: and then I was going.

"What! you will go?"

"I am cold, sir."

"Cold? Yes,-and standing in a pool! Go, then, Jane; go!" But he still retained my hand, and I could not free it. I bethought myself of an expedient.

"I think I hear Mrs. Fairfax move, sir," said I.

"Well, leave me:" he relaxed his fingers, and I was gone.

I regained my couch, but never thought of sleep.

Till morning dawned I was tossed on a buoyant but unquiet sea, where billows of trouble rolled under surges of joy.

I thought sometimes I saw beyond its wild waters a shore, sweet as the hills of Beulah; and now and then a freshening gale, wakened by hope, bore my spirit triumphantly towards the bourne: but I could not reach it, even in fancy-a counteracting breeze blew off land, and continually drove me back.

Sense would resist delirium: judgment would warn passion.

Too feverish to rest, I rose as soon as day dawned.

I both wished and feared to see Mr. Rochester on the day which followed this sleepless night: I wanted to hear his voice again, yet feared to meet his eye.

During the early part of the morning, I momentarily expected his coming; he was not in the frequent habit of entering the schoolroom, but he did step in for a few minutes sometimes, and I had the impression that he was sure to visit it that day.

But the morning passed just as usual: nothing happened to interrupt the quiet course of Adèle's studies; only soon after breakfast, I heard some bustle in the neighbourhood of Mr. Rochester's chamber, Mrs. Fairfax's voice, and Leah's, and the cook's-that is, John's wife-and even John's own gruff tones.

There were exclamations of "What a mercy master was not burnt in his bed!" "It is always dangerous to keep a candle lit at night." "How providential that he had presence of mind to think of the water-jug!" "I wonder he waked nobody!" "It is to be hoped he will not take cold with sleeping on the library sofa," &c.

To much confabulation succeeded a sound of scrubbing and setting to rights; and when I passed the room, in going downstairs to dinner, I saw through the open door that all was again restored to complete order; only the bed was stripped of its hangings.

Leah stood up in the window-seat, rubbing the panes of glass dimmed with smoke.

I was about to address her, for I wished to know what account had been given of the affair: but, on advancing, I saw a second person in the chamber-a woman sitting on a chair by the bedside, and sewing rings to new curtains.

That woman was no other than Grace Poole.

Chapter 16

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