“But under such circumstances, what could one do?” returned Mason.
“Oh, it was frightful!” he added, shuddering.
“And I did not expect it: she looked so quiet at first.”
“I warned you,” was his friend’s answer;
“I said—be on your guard when you go near her. Besides, you might have waited till to-morrow, and had me with you: it was mere folly to attempt the interview to-night, and alone.”
“I thought I could have done some good.”
“You thought! you thought!
Yes, it makes me impatient to hear you: but, however, you have suffered, and are likely to suffer enough for not taking my advice; so I’ll say no more.
Carter—hurry!—hurry!
The sun will soon rise, and I must have him off.”
“Directly, sir; the shoulder is just bandaged.
I must look to this other wound in the arm: she has had her teeth here too, I think.”
“She sucked the blood: she said she’d drain my heart,” said Mason.
I saw Mr. Rochester shudder: a singularly marked expression of disgust, horror, hatred, warped his countenance almost to distortion; but he only said—
“Come, be silent, Richard, and never mind her gibberish: don’t repeat it.”
“I wish I could forget it,” was the answer.
“You will when you are out of the country: when you get back to Spanish Town, you may think of her as dead and buried—or rather, you need not think of her at all.”
“Impossible to forget this night!”
“It is not impossible: have some energy, man.
You thought you were as dead as a herring two hours since, and you are all alive and talking now.
There!—Carter has done with you or nearly so; I’ll make you decent in a trice.
Jane” (he turned to me for the first time since his re-entrance), “take this key: go down into my bedroom, and walk straight forward into my dressing-room: open the top drawer of the wardrobe and take out a clean shirt and neck-handkerchief: bring them here; and be nimble.”
I went; sought the repository he had mentioned, found the articles named, and returned with them.
“Now,” said he, “go to the other side of the bed while I order his toilet; but don’t leave the room: you may be wanted again.”
I retired as directed.
“Was anybody stirring below when you went down, Jane?” inquired Mr. Rochester presently.
“No, sir; all was very still.”
“We shall get you off cannily, Dick: and it will be better, both for your sake, and for that of the poor creature in yonder.
I have striven long to avoid exposure, and I should not like it to come at last.
Here, Carter, help him on with his waist-coat.
Where did you leave your furred cloak?
You can’t travel a mile without that, I know, in this damned cold climate.
In your room?—Jane, run down to Mr. Mason’s room,—the one next mine,—and fetch a cloak you will see there.”
Again I ran, and again returned, bearing an immense mantle lined and edged with fur.
“Now, I’ve another errand for you,” said my untiring master; “you must away to my room again.
What a mercy you are shod with velvet, Jane!—a clod-hopping messenger would never do at this juncture.
You must open the middle drawer of my toilet-table and take out a little phial and a little glass you will find there,—quick!”
I flew thither and back, bringing the desired vessels.
“That’s well!
Now, doctor, I shall take the liberty of administering a dose myself, on my own responsibility.
I got this cordial at Rome, of an Italian charlatan—a fellow you would have kicked, Carter.
It is not a thing to be used indiscriminately, but it is good upon occasion: as now, for instance.
Jane, a little water.”
He held out the tiny glass, and I half filled it from the water-bottle on the washstand.
“That will do;—now wet the lip of the phial.”
I did so; he measured twelve drops of a crimson liquid, and presented it to Mason.
“Drink, Richard: it will give you the heart you lack, for an hour or so.”
“But will it hurt me?—is it inflammatory?”
“Drink! drink! drink!”
Mr. Mason obeyed, because it was evidently useless to resist.