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pectacle of desolation I had just left prepared me in a measure for a tale of misery。 The host was a respectable…looking; middle…aged man。
“You know Thornfield Hall; of course?” I managed to say at last。
“Yes; ma’am; I lived there once。”
“Did you?” Not in my time; I thought: you are a stranger to me。
“I was the late Mr。 Rochester’s butler;” he added。
The late! I seem to have received; with full force; the blow I had been trying to evade。
“The late!” gasped。 “Is he dead?”
“I mean the present gentleman; Mr。 Edward’s father;” he explained。 I breathed again: my blood resumed its flow。 Fully assured by these words that Mr。 Edward—my Mr。 Rochester (God bless him; wherever he was!)—was at least alive: was; in short; “the present gentleman。” Gladdening words! It seemed I could hear all that was to e—whatever the disclosures might be—with parative tranquillity。 Since he was not in the grave; I could bear; I thought; to learn that he was at the Antipodes。
“Is Mr。 Rochester living at Thornfield Hall now?” I asked; knowing; of course; what the answer would be; but yet desirous of deferring the direct question as to where he really was。
“No; ma’am—oh; no! No one is living there。 I suppose you are a stranger in these parts; or you would have heard what happened last autumn;—Thornfield Hall is quite a ruin: it was burnt down just about harvest…time。 A dreadful calamity! such an immense quantity of valuable property destroyed: hardly any of the furniture could be saved。 The fire broke out at dead of night; and before the engines arrived from Millcote; the building was one mass of flame。 It was a terrible spectacle: I witnessed it myself。”
“At dead of night!” I muttered。 Yes; that was ever the hour of fatality at Thornfield。 “Was it known how it originated?” I demanded。
“They guessed; ma’am: they guessed。 Indeed; I should say it was ascertained beyond a doubt。 You are not perhaps aware;” he continued; edging his chair a little nearer the table; and speaking low; “that there was a lady—a—a lunatic; kept in the house?”
“I have heard something of it。”
“She was kept in very close confinement; ma’am: people even for some years was not absolutely certain of her existence。 No one saw her: they only knew by rumour that such a person was at the Hall; and who or what she was it was difficult to conjecture。 They said Mr。 Edward had brought her from abroad; and some believed she had been his mistress。 But a queer thing happened a year since—a very queer thing。”
I feared now to hear my own story。 I endeavoured to recall him to the main fact。
“And this lady?”
“This lady; ma’am;” he answered; “turned out to be Mr。 Rochester’s wife! The discovery was brought about in the strangest way。 There was a young lady; a governess at the Hall; that Mr。 Rochester fell in—”
“But the fire;” I suggested。
“I’m ing to that; ma’am—that Mr。 Edward fell in love with。 The servants say they never saw anybody so much in love as he was: he was after her continually。 They used to watch him—servants will; you know; ma’am—and he set store on her past everything: for all; nobody but him thought her so very handsome。 She was a little small thing; they say; almost like a child。 I never saw her myself; but I’ve heard Leah; the house…maid; tell of her。 Leah liked her well enough。 Mr。 Rochester was about forty; and this governess not twenty; and you see; when gentlemen of his age fall in love with girls; they are often like as if they were bewitched。 Well; he would marry her。”
“You shall tell me this part of the story another time;” I said; “but now I have a particular reason for wishing to hear all about the fire。 Was it suspected that this lunatic; Mrs。 Rochester; had any hand in it?”
“You’ve hit it; ma’am: it’s quite certain that it was her; and nobody but her; that set it going。 She had a woman to take care of her called Mrs。 Poole—an able woman in her line; and very trustworthy; but for one fault—a fault mon to a deal of them nurses and matrons—she kept a private bottle of gin by her; and now and then took a drop over…much。 It is excusable; for she had a hard life of it: but still it was dangerous; for when Mrs。 Poole was fast asleep after the gin and water; the mad lady; who was as cunning as a witch; would take the keys out of her pocket; let herself out of her chamber; and go roaming about the house; doing any wild mischief that came into her head。 They say she had nearly burnt her husband in his bed once: but I don’t know about that。 However; on this night; she set fire first to the hangings of the room next her own; and then she got down to a lower storey; and made her way to the chamber that had been the governess’s—(she was like as if she knew somehow how matters had gone on; and had a spite at her)—and she kindled the bed there; but there was nobody sleeping in it; fortunately。 The governess had run away two months before; and for all Mr。 Rochester sought her as if she had been the most precious thing he had in the world; he never could hear a word of her; and he grew savage—quite savage on his disappointment: he never was a wild man; but he got dangerous after he lost her。 He would be alone; too。 He sent Mrs。 Fairfax; the housekeeper; away to her friends at a distance; but he did it handsomely; for he settled an annuity on her for life: and she deserved it—she was a very good woman。 Miss Adèle; a ward he had; was put to school。 He broke off acquaintance with all the gentry; and shut himself up like a hermit at the Hall。”
“What! did he not leave England?”
“Leave England? Bless you; no! He would not cross the door…stones of the house; except at night; when he walked just like a ghost about the grounds and in the orchard as if he had lost his senses— which it is my opinion he had; for a more spirited; bolder; keener gentleman than he was before that midge of a governess crossed him; you never saw; ma’am。 He was not a man given to wine; or cards; or racing; as some are; and he was not so very handsome; but he had a courage and a will of his own; if ever man had。 I knew him from a boy; you see: and for my part; I have often wished that Miss Eyre had been sunk in the sea before she came to Thornfield Hall。”
“Then Mr。 Rochester was at home when the fire broke out?”
“Yes; indeed was he; and he went up to the attics when all was burning above and below; and got the servants out of their beds and helped them down himself; and went back to get his mad wife out of her cell。 And then they called out to him that she was on the roof; where she was standing; waving her arms; above the battlements; and shouting out till they could hear her a mile off: I saw her and heard her with my own eyes。 She was a big woman; and had long black hair: we could see it streaming against the flames as she stood。 I witnessed; and several more witnessed; Mr。 Rochester ascend through the sky…light on to the roof; we heard him call ‘Bertha!’ We saw him approach her; and then; ma’am; she yelled and gave a spring; and the next minute she lay smashed on the pavement。”
“Dead?”
“Dead! Ay; dead as the stones on which her brains and blood were scattered。”
“Good God!”
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