Jane Eyre - Page 10/412

A singular notion dawned upon me. I doubted not--never doubted--

that if Mr. Reed had been alive he would have treated me kindly; and

now, as I sat looking at the white bed and overshadowed walls--

occasionally also turning a fascinated eye towards the dimly

gleaning mirror--I began to recall what I had heard of dead men,

troubled in their graves by the violation of their last wishes,

revisiting the earth to punish the perjured and avenge the

oppressed; and I thought Mr. Reed's spirit, harassed by the wrongs

of his sister's child, might quit its abode--whether in the church

vault or in the unknown world of the departed--and rise before me in

this chamber. I wiped my tears and hushed my sobs, fearful lest any

sign of violent grief might waken a preternatural voice to comfort

me, or elicit from the gloom some haloed face, bending over me with

strange pity. This idea, consolatory in theory, I felt would be

terrible if realised: with all my might I endeavoured to stifle it-

-I endeavoured to be firm. Shaking my hair from my eyes, I lifted

my head and tried to look boldly round the dark room; at this moment

a light gleamed on the wall. Was it, I asked myself, a ray from the

moon penetrating some aperture in the blind? No; moonlight was

still, and this stirred; while I gazed, it glided up to the ceiling

and quivered over my head. I can now conjecture readily that this

streak of light was, in all likelihood, a gleam from a lantern

carried by some one across the lawn: but then, prepared as my mind

was for horror, shaken as my nerves were by agitation, I thought the

swift darting beam was a herald of some coming vision from another

world. My heart beat thick, my head grew hot; a sound filled my

ears, which I deemed the rushing of wings; something seemed near me;

I was oppressed, suffocated: endurance broke down; I rushed to the

door and shook the lock in desperate effort. Steps came running

along the outer passage; the key turned, Bessie and Abbot entered.

"Miss Eyre, are you ill?" said Bessie.

"What a dreadful noise! it went quite through me!" exclaimed Abbot.

"Take me out! Let me go into the nursery!" was my cry.

"What for? Are you hurt? Have you seen something?" again demanded

Bessie.

"Oh! I saw a light, and I thought a ghost would come." I had now

got hold of Bessie's hand, and she did not snatch it from me.

"She has screamed out on purpose," declared Abbot, in some disgust.

"And what a scream! If she had been in great pain one would have

excused it, but she only wanted to bring us all here: I know her

naughty tricks."