"There! I am up now; but at your peril you fetch a candle yet:
wait two minutes till I get into some dry garments, if any dry there
be--yes, here is my dressing-gown. Now run!"
I did run; I brought the candle which still remained in the gallery.
He took it from my hand, held it up, and surveyed the bed, all
blackened and scorched, the sheets drenched, the carpet round
swimming in water.
"What is it? and who did it?" he asked. I briefly related to him
what had transpired: the strange laugh I had heard in the gallery:
the step ascending to the third storey; the smoke,--the smell of
fire which had conducted me to his room; in what state I had found
matters there, and how I had deluged him with all the water I could
lay hands on.
He listened very gravely; his face, as I went on, expressed more
concern than astonishment; he did not immediately speak when I had
concluded.
"Shall I call Mrs. Fairfax?" I asked.
"Mrs. Fairfax? No; what the deuce would you call her for? What can
she do? Let her sleep unmolested."
"Then I will fetch Leah, and wake John and his wife."
"Not at all: just be still. You have a shawl on. If you are not
warm enough, you may take my cloak yonder; wrap it about you, and
sit down in the arm-chair: there,--I will put it on. Now place
your feet on the stool, to keep them out of the wet. I am going to
leave you a few minutes. I shall take the candle. Remain where you
are till I return; be as still as a mouse. I must pay a visit to
the second storey. Don't move, remember, or call any one."
He went: I watched the light withdraw. He passed up the gallery
very softly, unclosed the staircase door with as little noise as
possible, shut it after him, and the last ray vanished. I was left
in total darkness. I listened for some noise, but heard nothing. A
very long time elapsed. I grew weary: it was cold, in spite of the
cloak; and then I did not see the use of staying, as I was not to
rouse the house. I was on the point of risking Mr. Rochester's
displeasure by disobeying his orders, when the light once more
gleamed dimly on the gallery wall, and I heard his unshod feet tread
the matting. "I hope it is he," thought I, "and not something
worse."