简爱3-1

                                                THREE

THE next thing I remember is, waking up with a feeling as if I had had a frightful nightmare, and seeing before me a terrible red glare, crossed with thick black bars. I heard voices, too, speaking with a hollow sound, and as if muffled by a rush of wind or water: agitation, uncertainty, and an all-predominating sense of terror confused my faculties. Ere long, I became aware that some one was handling me; lifting me up and supporting me in a sitting posture, ad that more tenderly than I had ever been raised or upheld before. I rested my head against a pillow or an arm, and felt easy.

    In five minutes more , the cloud of bewilderment dissolved; I knew quite well that I was in my own bed, and that the red glare was the nursery fire. It was night: a candle burnt on the table; Bessie stood at the bed-foot with a basin in her hand. and a gentleman sait in a chair near my pillow, leaning over me. 

    I felt an inexpressible relief, a soothing conviction of protecttion and security, when I knew that there was a stranger in the room, an individual not belonging to Gateshead, and not related to Mrs. Reed. Turning from Bessie ( though her presence was far less obnoxious to me than that of Abbot, for instance would have been), I scrutinised the face of the gentleman: I knew him; it was Mr. Lloyd, an apothecary, sometimes called in by Mrs. Reed when the servants were ailing: for herself and the children she employed a physician.

    'Well, who am I?' he asked.
    I pronounced his name, offering him at the same time my hand: he took it, smiling and saying, 'We shall do very well by and by.' Then he laid me down, and addressing Bessie, charged her to be very careful that I was not disturbed during the night. Having given some further directions, and intimated that he should call again the next day, he departed; to my grief: I felt so sheltered and befriended while he sat in the chair near my pillow; and as he closed the door after him, all the room darkened and my heart again sank: inexpressible sadness weighted it down.
    'Do you feel as if you should sleep, Miss?' asked Bessie, rather softly.
    Scarcely dared I answer her; for I feared the next sentence might be rough. 'I will try.'
    'Would you like to drink, or could you eat anything?'
    'No, thank you, Bessie.'
   'Then I think I shall go to bed, for it is past twelve o'clock; but you may call me if you want anything in the night.'

    Wonderful civility this! It emboldened me to ask a question.
    'Bessie, what is the matter with me? Am I ill?'
    'You fell sick, I suppose, in the red-room with crying; you'll be better soon, no doubt.'
    Bessie went into the housemaid's apartment, which was near. I heard her say-----
    'Sarah, come and sleep with me in the nursery; I daren't for my life be alone with that poor child tonight: she might die; it's such a strange thing she should have that fit: I wonder if she saw anything. Missis was rather too hard.'
    Sarah came back with her; they both went to bed; they were whispering together for half an hour before they fell asleep. I caught scraps of their conversation, from which I was able only too distinctly to infer the main subject discussed.
    'Something passed her, all dressed in white, and vanished'----- 'A great black dog behind him'- 'Three loud raps on the chamber door'- 'A light in the churchyard just over his grave,' etc., etc.
    At last both slept: the fire and the candle went out. For me, the watches of that long night passed in ghastly wakefulness; ear, eye, and mind were alike strained by dread: such dread as children only can feel.