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