I briefly related to him what had transpired: the strange laugh I had heard in the gallery; the step ascending to the third storey; the smoke,- the smell of fire which had conducted me to his room; in what state I had found matters there，and how I had deluged him with all the water I could lay hands on.

He listened very gravely; his face，as I went on，expressed more concern than astonishment; he did not immediately speak when I had concluded.

"Shall I call Mrs. Fairfax?" I asked.

"Mrs. Fairfax? No; what the deuce would you call her for? What can she do? Let her sleep unmolested."

"Then I will fetch Leah，and wake John and his wife."

"Not at all: just be still. You have a shawl on. If you are not warm enough，you may take my cloak yonder; wrap it about you，and sit down in the arm-chair: there,- I will put it on. Now place your feet on the stool，to keep them out of the wet. I am going to leave you a few minutes. I shall take the candle. Remain where you are till I return; be as still as a mouse. I must pay a visit to the second storey. Don"t move，remember，or call any one."

He went: I watched the light withdraw. He passed up the gallery very softly，unclosed the staircase door with as little noise as possible，shut it after him，and the last ray vanished. I was left in total darkness. I listened for some noise，but heard nothing. A very long time elapsed. I grew weary: it was cold，in spite of the cloak; and then I did not see the use of staying，as I was not to rouse the house. I was on the point of risking Mr. Rochester"s displeasure by disobeying his orders，when the light once more gleamed dimly on the gallery wall，and I heard his unshod feet tread the matting. "I hope it is he," thought I，"and not something worse."

He re-entered，pale and very gloomy. "I have found it all out," said he，setting his candle down on the washstand; "it is as I thought."