第42部分(第5/7 页)

e　this　way：　take　your　time；　and　make　no　noise。”

My　slippers　were　thin：　I　could　walk　the　matted　floor　as　softly　as　a　cat。　He　glided　up　the　gallery　and　up　the　stairs；　and　stopped　in　the　dark；　low　corridor　of　the　fateful　third　storey：　I　had　followed　and　stood　at　his　side。

“Have　you　a　sponge　in　your　room？”　he　asked　in　a　whisper。

“Yes；　sir。”

“Have　you　any　salts—volatile　salts？　Yes。”

“Go　back　and　fetch　both。”

I　returned；　sought　the　sponge　on　the　washstand；　the　salts　in　my　drawer；　and　once　more　retraced　my　steps。　He　still　waited；　he　held　a　key　in　his　hand：　approaching　one　of　the　small；　black　doors；　he　put　it　in　the　lock；　he　paused；　and　addressed　me　again。

“You　don’t　turn　sick　at　the　sight　of　blood？”

“I　think　I　shall　not：　I　have　never　been　tried　yet。”

I　felt　a　thrill　while　I　answered　him；　but　no　coldness；　and　no　faintness。

“Just　give　me　your　hand；”　he　said：　“it　will　not　do　to　risk　a　fainting　fit。”

I　put　my　fingers　into　his。　“Warm　and　steady；”　was　his　remark：　he　turned　the　key　and　opened　the　door。

I　saw　a　room　I　remembered　to　have　seen　before；　the　day　Mrs。　Fairfax　showed　me　over　the　house：　it　was　hung　with　tapestry；　but　the　tapestry　was　now　looped　up　in　one　part；　and　there　was　a　door　apparent；　which　had　then　been　concealed。　This　door　was　open；　a　light　shone　out　of　the　room　within：　I　heard　thence　a　snarling；　snatching　sound；　almost　like　a　dog　quarrelling。　Mr。　Rochester；　putting　down　his　candle；　said　to　me；　“Wait　a　minute；”　and　he　went　forward　to　the　inner　apartment。　A　shout　of　laughter　greeted　his　entrance；　noisy　at　first；　and　terminating　in　Grace　Poole’s　own　goblin　ha！　ha！　She　then　was　there。　He　made　some　sort　of　arrangement　without　speaking；　though　I　heard　a　low　voice　address　him：　he　came　out　an