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250 was shaken; the child rolled from my knee, I lost my balance, fell, and woke.’ ‘Now, Jane, that is all.’ ‘All the preface, sir; the tale is yet to come. On waking, a gleam dazzled my eyes; I thought-Oh, it is daylight! But I was mistaken; it was only candlelight. Sophie, I supposed, had come in. There was a light in the dressing-table, and the door of the closet, where, before going to bed, I had hung my wedding-dress and veil, stood open; I heard a rustling there. I asked, “Sophie, what are you doing?” No one answered; but a form emerged from the closet; it took the light, held it aloft, and surveyed the garments pendent from the portmanteau. “Sophie! Sophie!” I again cried: and still it was silent. I had risen up in bed, I bent forward: first surprise, then bewilderment, came over me; and then my blood crept cold through my veins. Mr. Rochester, this was not Sophie, it was not Leah, it was not Mrs. Fairfax: it was not-no, I was sure of it, and am still-it was not even that strange woman, Grace Poole.’ ‘It must have been one of them,’ interrupted my master. ‘No, sir, I solemnly assure you to the contrary. The shape standing before me had never crossed my eyes within the precincts of Thornfield Hall before; the height, the contour were new to me.’ ‘Describe it, Jane.’ ‘It seemed, sir, a woman, tall and large, with thick and dark hair hanging long down her back. I know not what dress she had on: it was white and straight; but whether gown, sheet, or shroud, I cannot tell.’ ‘Did you see her face?’ ‘Not at first. But presently she took my veil from its place; she held it up, gazed at it long, and then she threw it over her own head, and turned to the mirror. At that moment I saw the reflection of the visage and features quite distinctly in the dark oblong glass.’ ‘And how were they?’ ‘Fearful and ghastly to me-oh, sir, I never saw a face like it! It was a discoloured face-it was a savage face. I wish I could forget the roll of the red eyes and the fearful blackened inflation of the lineaments!’ ‘Ghosts are usually pale, Jane.’ ‘This, sir, was purple: the lips were swelled and dark; the brow furrowed: the black eyebrows widely raised over the bloodshot eyes. Shall I tell you of what it reminded me?’ ‘You may.’ ‘Of the foul German spectre-the Vampyre.’ ‘Ah!- what did it do?’ ‘Sir, it removed my veil from its gaunt head, rent it in two parts, and flinging both on the floor, trampled on them.’ ‘Afterwards?’ ‘It drew aside the window-curtain and looked out; perhaps it saw dawn approaching, for, taking the candle, it retreated to the door. Just at my bedside, the figure stopped: the fiery eyes glared upon me-she thrust up her candle close to my face, and extinguished it under my eyes. I was aware her lurid visage flamed over mine, and I lost consciousness: for the second time in my life-only the |