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d not mind that； i saw it was his way。 so happy； so gratified did i bee with this new interest added to life； that i ceased to pine after kindred： my thin crescent…destiny seemed to enlarge； the blanks of existence were filled up； my bodily health improved； i gathered flesh and strength。
and was mr。 rochester now ugly in my eyes？ no； reader： gratitude； and many associations； all pleasurable and genial； made his face the object i best liked to see； his presence in a room was more cheering than the brightest fire。 yet i had not forgotten his faults； indeed； i could not； for he brought them frequently before me。 he was proud； sardonic； harsh to inferiority of every description： in my secret soul i knew that his great kindness to me was balanced by unjust severity to many others。 he was moody； too； unaccountably so； i more than once； when sent for to read to him； found him sitting in his library alone； with his head bent on his folded arms； and； when he looked up； a morose； almost a malignant； scowl blackened his features。 but i believed that his moodiness； his harshness； and his former faults of morality （i say former； for now he seemed corrected of them） had their source in some cruel cross of fate。 i believed he was naturally a man of better tendencies； higher principles； and purer tastes than such as circumstances had developed； education instilled； or destiny encouraged。 i thought there were excellent materials in him； though for the present they hung together somewhat spoiled and tangled。 i cannot deny that i grieved for his grief； whatever that was； and would have given much to assuage it。
though i had now extinguished my candle and was laid down in bed； i could not sleep for thinking of his look when he paused in the avenue； and told how his destiny had risen up before him； and dared him to be happy at thornfield。
“why not？” i asked myself。 “what alienates him from the house？ will he leave it again soon？ mrs。 fairfaaid 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 doleful。 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 this musing； at any rate； i started wide awake on hearing a vague murmur； peculiar and lugubrious； which sounded； i thought； just above me。 i wished i had kept my candle burning： the night was drearily dark； 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 tranquillity 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。 i 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 unfrequently found his way up to the threshold of mr。 rochester’s chamber： i had seen him lying there myself in the mornings。 the idea calmed me somewhat： i lay down。 silence poses 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 affrighted； scared by a marrow…freezing incident enough。
this 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 i 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； while； 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。 ere 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 i。 impossible now to remain longer by myself： i must go to mrs。 fairfax。 i 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； and； 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 in a cloud from thence。 i thought no more of mrs。 fairfax； i thought no more of grace poole； or the laugh： in an instant； i was within the chamber。 tongues of flame darted round the bed： the curtains were on fire。 in the midst of blaze and vapour； mr。 rochester lay stretched motionless； in deep sleep。
“wake！ wake！” i cried。 i shook him； but he only murmured and turned： the smoke had stupefied him。 not a moment could be lost： the very sheets were kindling； i rushed to his basin and ewer； fortunately； one was wide and the other deep； and both were filled with water。 i heaved them up； deluged the bed and its occupant； flew back to my own room； brought my own water…jug； baptized the couch afresh； and； by god’s aid； succeeded in extinguishing the flames which were devouring it。
the hiss of the quenched element； the breakage of a pitcher which i flung from my hand when i had emptied it； and； above all； the splash of the shower…bath i had liberally bestowed； roused mr。 rochester at last。 though it was now dark； i knew he was awake； because i heard him fulminating strange anathemas at finding himself lying in a pool of water。
“is there a flood？” he cried。
“no； sir；” i answered； “but there has been a fire： get up； do； you are quenched now； i will fetch you a candle。”
“in the name of all the elves in christendom； is that jane eyre？” he demand