Something creaked: it was a door ajar; and that door was Mr Rochester's, and the smoke rushed from it in a cloud. Suddenly alerted of the serious situation happening, I walked up to the long, red staircase and dashed towards the door that emitted the smoke which smelt like acid. It was grey and dark. I could taste the soot polluting my throat and feel it stinging my eyes. Choking severely, I felt like my lungs were going to kill me.
Curiously, I took a step forward and as I got closer and closer, the door creaked open. At first when I entered, I saw nothing but a terrifying wall of bright orange fire; when I took a closer look, I saw someone lying on the floor. Squinting even more carefully, I saw that it was Mr. Rochester who had passed out on the floor. No wonder, the heat of the fire was tremendous; I felt like burning though! Rapidly, I ran out of the house and went to Mrs Fairfax's house to report the incident.
Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte's
Though I had now extinguished my candle and was laid down in bed, I could not sleep
for thinking of Mr Rochester's look when he paused in the avenue, and told me how his
destiny had risen up before him, and dared him to be happy at Thornfield.
"Why not?" | asked myself. "What alienates him from the house? Will he leave it again
soon? Mrs Fairfax said he seldom stayed here longer than a fortnight at a time; and he has
now been resident eight weeks. If he does go, the change will be miserable. Suppose he should be absent spring, summer, and autumn: how joyless sunshine and fine days will seem!"
I hardly know whether I had slept or not after these thoughts At any rate, I started wide awake on hearing a vague murmur, peculiar and lugubrious, which came, I thought, from just above me. I wished I had kept my candle burning: the night was drearily dark and my spirits were depressed. I rose and sat up in bed, listening. The sound was hushed.
I tried again to sleep, but my heart beat anxiously: my inward calm was broken. The clock, far down in the hall, struck two. Just then it seemed my chamber door was touched, as if fingers had swept the panels in groping a way along the dark gallery outside. I said, "Who is there?" Nothing answered. l was chilled with fear.
All at once I remembered that it might be Pilot, who, when the kitchen door chanced to be left open, not Infrequently found his way up to the threshold of Mr Rochester's chamber: l had seen him lying there myself in the mornings. The idea calmed me somewhat, and I lay down. Silence composes the nerves; and as an unbroken hush now reigned again through the whole house, I began to feel the return of slumber. But it was not fated that I should sleep that night. A dream had
scarcely approached my ear, when it fled in fright.
There was a demoniac laugh-low, suppressed, and deep -uttered, as it seemed, at the very keyhole of my chamber door. The head of my bed was near the door, and | thought at first the goblin-laugher stood at my bedside-or rather, crouched by my pillow: but I rose, looked round, and could see nothing. As I still gazed, the unnatural sound was reiterated, and I knew it came from behind the panels. My first impulse was to rise and fasten the bolt; my next, again to cry out, "Who is there?"
Something gurgled and moaned. Before long, steps retreated up the gallery towards the third-storey staircase. A door had lately been made to shut in that staircase. I heard it open and close, and all was still.
"Was that Grace Poole? And is she possessed with a devil?" thought l. It was impossible now to remain by myself: I must go to Mrs Fairfax. l hurried on my frock and a shawl. I withdrew the bolt and opened the door with a trembling hand. There was a candle burning just outside, and on the matting in the gallery. I was surprised at this circumstance: but still more was I amazed to perceive the air quite dim, as if filled with smoke. While looking to the right hand and left, to find whence these blue wreaths issued, I became further aware of a strong smell of burning. Something creaked: it was a door ajar; and that door was Mr Rochester's, and the smoke rushed from it in a cloud.
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