CHAPTER XIX 255
" No; stay a moment; and tell me what the people in the drawing-room yonder are doing."
" Discussing the gipsy, I daresay." " Sit down!-- Let me hear what they said about me."
" I had better not stay long, sir; it must be near eleven o ' clock. Oh, are you aware, Mr. Rochester, that a stranger has arrived here since you left this morning?"
" A stranger!-- no; who can it be? I expected no one; is he gone?"
" No; he said he had known you long, and that he could take the liberty of installing himself here till you returned."
" The devil he did! Did he give his name?"
" His name is Mason, sir; and he comes from the West Indies; from Spanish Town, in Jamaica, I think."
Mr. Rochester was standing near me; he had taken my hand, as if to lead me to a chair. As I spoke he gave my wrist a convulsive grip; the smile on his lips froze: apparently a spasm caught his breath.
" Mason!-- the West Indies!" he said, in the tone one might fancy a speaking automaton to enounce its single words; " Mason!-- the West Indies!" he reiterated; and he went over the syllables three times, growing, in the intervals of speaking, whiter than ashes: he hardly seemed to know what he was doing.
" Do you feel ill, sir?" I inquired. " Jane, I ' ve got a blow; I ' ve got a blow, Jane!" He staggered. " Oh, lean on me, sir."