CHAPTER XX 259
CHAPTER XX
I had forgotten to draw my curtain , which I usually did , and also to let down my window-blind . The consequence was , that when the moon , which was full and bright ( for the night was fine ), came in her course to that space in the sky opposite my casement , and looked in at me through the unveiled panes , her glorious gaze roused me . Awaking in the dead of night , I opened my eyes on her disk -- silver-white and crystal clear . It was beautiful , but too solemn ; I half rose , and stretched my arm to draw the curtain .
Good God ! What a cry !
The night -- its silence -- its rest , was rent in twain by a savage , a sharp , a shrilly sound that ran from end to end of Thornfield Hall .
My pulse stopped : my heart stood still ; my stretched arm was paralysed . The cry died , and was not renewed . Indeed , whatever being uttered that fearful shriek could not soon repeat it : not the widest-winged condor on the Andes could , twice in succession , send out such a yell from the cloud shrouding his eyrie . The thing delivering such utterance must rest ere it could repeat the effort .
It came out of the third storey ; for it passed overhead . And overhead -- yes , in the room just above my chamber-ceiling -- I now heard a struggle : a deadly one it seemed from the noise ; and a half-smothered voice shouted -
" Help ! help ! help !" three times rapidly .
" Will no one come ?" it cried ; and then , while the staggering and stamping went on wildly , I distinguished through plank and plaster : -
" Rochester ! Rochester ! for God ' s sake , come !"
A chamber-door opened : some one ran , or rushed , along the gallery . Another step stamped on the flooring above and something fell ; and there was silence .