ted 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 a shawl； I withdrew the bolt and opened the door with a trembling hand。 There was a candle burning just outside； and on the matting in the gallery。 I was surprised at this circumstance： but still more was I amazed to perceive the air quite dim； as if filled with smoke； and； while looking to the right hand and left； to find whence these blue wreaths issued； I became further aware of a strong smell of burning。
Something creaked： it was a door ajar； and that door was Mr。 Rochester’s； and the smoke rushed in a cloud from thence。 I thought no more of Mrs。 Fairfax； I thought no more of Grace Poole； or the laugh： in an instant； I was within the chamber。 Tongues of flame darted round the bed： the curtains were on fire。 In the midst of blaze and vapour； Mr。 Rochester lay stretched motionless； in deep sleep。
“Wake！ wake！” I cried。 I shook him； but he only murmured and turned： the smoke had stupefied him。 Not a moment could be lost： the very sheets were kindling； I rushed to his basin and ewer； fortunately； one was wide and the other deep； and both were filled with water。 I heaved them up； deluged the bed and its occupant； flew back to my own room； brought my own water…jug； baptized the couch afresh； and； by God’s aid； succeeded in extinguishing the flames which were devouring it。
The hiss of the quenched element； the breakage of a pitcher which I flung from my hand when I had emptied it； and； above all； the splash of the shower…bath I h