ed in at me through the unveiled panes； her glorious gaze roused me。 Awaking in the dead of night； I opened my eyes on her disk—silver… white and crystal clear。 It was beautiful； but too solemn； I half rose； and stretched my arm to draw the curtain。
Good God！ What a cry！
The night—its silence—its rest； was rent in twain by a savage； a sharp； a shrilly sound that ran from end to end of Thornfield Hall。
My pulse stopped： my heart stood still； my stretched arm was paralysed。 The cry died； and was not renewed。 Indeed； whatever being uttered that fearful shriek could not soon repeat it： not the widest…winged condor on the Andes could； twice in succession； send out such a yell from the cloud shrouding his eyrie。 The thing delivering such utterance must rest ere it could repeat the effort。
It came out of the third storey； for it passed overhead。 And overhead—yes； in the room just above my chamber…ceiling—I now heard a struggle： a deadly one it seemed from the noise； and a half…smothered voice shouted—
“Help！ help！ help！” three times rapidly。
“Will no one e？” it cried； and then； while the staggering and stamping went on wildly； I distinguished through plank and plaster：—
“Rochester！ Rochester！ for God’s sake； e！”
A chamber…door opened： some one ran； or rushed； along the gallery。 Another step stamped on the flooring above and something fell； and there was silence。
I had put on some clothes； though horror shook all my limbs； I issued from my apartment。 The sleepers were all aroused： ejaculations； terrified murmurs sounded in every room； door after door unclosed； one looked out and another looked out； the gallery filled。 Gentlemen and ladies alike had quitted their beds； and “Oh！ what is it？”—“Who is hurt？”—“What has h