thenIwasihirdstorey,fasteoosmysticcells;nightaroundme;apaleandbloodyspectadermyeyesandhands;amurderesshardlyseparatedfrommebyasingledoor:yes—thatalling—therestIcouldbear;butIshudderedatthethoughtofGracePooleburstingoutuponme.

    Imustkeeptomypost,however.Imustwatchthisghastlyteheseblue,stilllipsforbiddentounclose—theseeyesnowshut,nowopening,nowwanderingthroughtheroom,nowfixingonme,andeverglazedwiththedulnessofhorror.Imustdipmyhandagainandagaininthebasinofbloodandwater,andwipeawaythetriggore.Imustseethelightoftheunsnuffeddlewaneonmyemployment;theshadowsdarkenonthewrought,antiquetapestryroundme,andgrowbladerthehangingsofthevastoldbed,andquiverstrangelyoverthedoorsofagreatetopposite—whosefront,dividedintotwelvepanels,bore,ingrimdesign,theheadsofthetwelveapostles,eaclosedinitsseparatepanelasinaframe;whileabovethematthetoproseaneboncrucifixandadyingChrist.

    Accastheshiftingobscurityandflickeringgleamhoveredherelahere,itwasnowthebeardedphysi,Luke,thatbenthisbrow;nowSt.John’slonghairthatwaved;andanonthedevilishfaceofJudas,thatgrewoutofthepanel,andseemedgatheringlifeandthreateningarevelationofthearch-traitor—ofSatanhimself—inhissubordinate’sform.

    Amidstallthis,Ihadtolistenaswellaswatch:tolistenforthemovementsofthewildbeastorthefiendinyondersideden.ButsinceMr.Rochester’svisititseemedspellbound:allthenightIheardbutthreesoundsatthreelongintervals,—astepcreak,amomentaryrenewalofthesnarling,enoise,andadeephumangroan.

    Thenmyownthoughtsworriedme.Whatcrimewasthisthatl