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PinkMonkey.com Digital Library - PinkMonkey.com Digital Library-Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte


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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
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