es him from the house? Will he
leave it again soon? Mrs. Fairfax said he seldom stayed here longer than
a fortnight at a time; and he has now been resident eight weeks. If he
does go, the change will be doleful. Suppose he should be absent spring,
summer, and autumn: how joyless sunshine and fine days will seem!"

I hardly know whether 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
composes 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 retreated up the gallery
towards the third-storey staircase: a door had lately been made to shut
in that staircase; I heard it open and close, and all was still.

"Was that Grace Poole? and is she possessed with a devil?" thought I.
Impossible now to remain longer by myself: I must go to Mrs. Fairfax. I
hurried on my frock and