"Do you feel ill, sir?" I inquired.

"Jane, I've got a blow; I've got a blow, Jane!" he staggered.

Then he sat down and made me sit beside him.

"My little friend," said he, "I wish I were in a quiet island with only
you; and trouble and danger and hideous recollections were removed from
me."

"Can I help you, sir? I'd give my life to serve you."

"Jane, if aid is wanted, I'll seek it at your hands."

"Thank you, sir; tell me what to do."

"Go back into the room; step quietly up to Mason, tell him Mr. Rochester
has come and wishes to see him; show him in here, and then leave me."

At a late hour that night I heard the visitors repair to their chambers
and Mr. Rochester saying: "This way, Mason; this is your room."

He spoke cheerfully, and the gay tones set my heart at ease.

Awaking in the dead of night I stretched my hand to draw the curtain,
for the moon was full and bright. Good God! What a cry! The night was
rent in twain by a savage, shrilly sound that ran from end to end of
Thornfield Hall.