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ether 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 retrea
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