jane saves mr rochester’s life

Chapter-9

Jane Eyre was very much happy with Adele who did as she was told. Both dined as usual in Mrs Fairfax’s parlour. On one afternoon, it was wild and snowy. They passed it in the schoolroom. At dark Jane allowed Adele to put away books and work, and to run downstairs; for, from the comparative silence below, and from the cessation of appeals to the door-bell, Jane conjectured that Mr Rochester was now at liberty. Left alone, she walked to the window; but nothing was to be seen there. Twilight and snowflakes together thickened the air and hid the very shrubs on the lawn. She let down the curtain and went back to the fireside.
In the clear embers, she was tracing a view, not unlike a picture she remembered to have seen of the castle of Heidelberg, on the Rhine, when Mrs Fairfax came in, breaking up by her entrance the fiery mosaic Jane had been piecing together, and scattering too some heavy unwelcome thoughts that were beginning to throng on her solitude.
“Mr Rochester would be glad if you and Adele would take tea with him in the drawing room this evening,” said Mrs Fairfax, “He has been so much engaged all day that he could not ask to see you before.”
“When is his tea-time?” Jane inquired.
“At six o’ clock. He keeps early hours in the country. You had better change your frock now. I will go with you and fasten it. Here is a candle,” Mrs Fairfax replied.
“Is it necessary for me to change my frock?” Jane asked.
“Yes, you had better. I always dress for the evening when Mr Rochester is here,” was the reply from Mrs Fairfax.
This additional ceremony seemed somewhat stately. However, Jane retired to her room. With Mrs Fairfax’s aid she replaced her black stuff dress by one of black silk, the best and the only additional one she had except one of light grey, which, in her Lowood notions of the toilette, she thought too fine to be worn, except on first-rate occasions.
“Do you want a brooch,” said Mrs Fairfax.
“No,” was the reply from Jane. She had a single little pearl ornament which Miss Temple gave her as a parting keepsake. She put it on. Then, they went downstairs. Unused as Jane was to strangers, it was rather a trial to appear thus formally summoned in Mr Rochester’s presence. She let Mrs Fairfax precede her into the dining room, and kept in her shade as they crossed that apartment. Passing the arch, whose curtain was now dropped, they entered the elegant recess beyond. Two wax candles stood alighted on the table, and two on the mantelpiece, basking in the light and heat of a superb fire, lay Pilot the dog.
Adele knelt near it. Half reclined on a couch appeared Mr Rochester; his foot was supported by the cushion. He was looking at Adele and Pilot the dog. The fire shone full on his face. Jane knew Mr Rochester with his broad and jetty eyebrows; his square forehead was made squarer by the horizontal sweep of his black hair. She recognised his decisive noise, more remarkable for character than beauty; his full nostrils, denoting, she thought choler; his grim mouth, chin and jaw—yes, all three were very grim. There was no mistake. His shape, now divested of cloak, she perceived harmonized in squareness with his physiognomy. She supposed it was a good figure in the athletic sense of the term—broad-chated, and thin flanked, though neither tall nor graceful.
Mr Rochester must have been aware of the entrance of Mrs Fairfax and Jane; but it appeared he was not in the mood to notice them, for he never lifted his head as they approached.
“Here is Jane Eyre,” said Mrs Fairfax in her quiet way. He bowed, still not taking his eyes from the dog and Adele.
“Let Jane be seated,” said he to Mrs Fairfax. After the formal introduction, Jane was sent to her room.
One day, Jane Eyre was lying in her bed. It was mid-night. She was still awake. She was not able to sleep in peace. Her thoughts centred around Mr Rochester’s life at Thornfield. All of a sudden, she felt as if someone had been peeping inside through the keyhole of the door of her bedroom. She got frightened. She, at once, got up from the bed and approached the door. With a sudden move, she flung the door open outside. There was nobody outside. She decided to go to the chamber of Mrs Fairfax.

On the way, she smelt something burning. The smell was coming from the room of Mr Rochester. She rushed towards his room. When she reached outside his room, she was dumbfounded. She saw through an open window that the curtains of the room had caught fire. Mr Rochester unaware of the danger lay stretched motionless. Jane went inside and shook Mr Rochester hard saying, “Wake up! Wake up!! The room is on fire.” But Mr Rochester did not respond. He was snoring heavily. Then, Jane rushed to the bathroom and carried a bucketful of water. She threw water at the flames and brought the fire under control. At last, the fire was completely put out.
The hiss of the quenched element, the breakage of a pitcher which Jane flung from her hand when she had emptied it, and, above all, the splash of the shower-bath she had liberally bestowed, roused Mr Rochester at last—Though it was now dark yet Jane knew he was awake because she heard him fulminating strange anathemas at finding himself lying in a pool of water. “Is there flood?” Mr Rochester cried.
“No sir,” Jane answered, “But there has been a fire. You are saved now. I will fetch you a candle.”
“In the name of all the elves in Christendom, is that Jane Eyre?” he demanded, “What have you done with me? Who is in the room besides you? Have you plotted to drown me?”
“I will fetch you a candle, sir. In Heaven’s name, please get up. Somebody has plotted something. You can’t too soon find out who and what it is.” Saying these words Jane brought the candle which still remained in the gallery. Mr Rochester took it from the hand, held it up and surveyed the bed, all blackened and scorched, the sheets drenched, the carpet found swimming in water.
“What is it? Who did it?” Mr Rochester asked. Jane briefly related to him what had transpired : the strange laugh she had heard in the gallery, the step ascending to the third storey, the smoke, the smell of fire which had conducted her to his room. Mr Rochester listened very gravely. His face, as she went on, expressed more concern than astonishment. He didn’t speak immediately when she had concluded.
“Shall I call Mrs Fairfax?” Jane asked.
“No, what the deuce would you call for? What can she do? Let her sleep unmolested,” said Mr Rochester.
“Just be still. You have a shawl on. If you are not warm enough, you may take my cloak yonder. Wrap it around you and sit down in the arm-chair. Now, place your feet on the stool. 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.”
Saying these words, Mr Rochester went away from there. Jane watched the light withdraw. She passed up the gallery very softly, unclosed the staircase door with as little noise as possible and shut it after him. Jane was left in total darkness. She listened to her noise but heard nothing. A very long time elapsed. She grew impatient. It was cold in spite of the cloak. She was on the point of risking Mr Rochester’s displeasure by disobeying his orders. After some time Mr Rochester re-entered, pale and very gloom. Then, he heaved a sigh of relief.
Mr Rochester thanked Jane Eyre and shook hands with her as a token of gratitude. He said to Jane, “Dear! you have dragged me out of the jaws of death. But for your timely help, I would have been burnt alive. I am deeply indebted to you for this act of yours.” Then, he smiled a little bit. Jane Eyre, too, smiled. Love for each other had aroused in the hearts of both Mr Rochester and Jane Eyre. Mr Rochester had decided in his heart of hearts to make Jane Eyre his wife. Jane Eyre returned to her bedroom that night. She was not able to sleep properly through the rest of the night.

Leave a Comment

Shopping Cart
×

Hello!

Click one of our contacts below to chat on WhatsApp

× How can I help you?