Jane Eyre

may have heard a noise?«
    »I did,« said I, dropping my voice, so that Leah, who was still polishing the panes, could not hear me, »and at first I thought it was Pilot: but Pilot cannot laugh; and I am certain I heard a laugh, and a strange one.«
    She took a new needleful of thread, waxed it carefully, threaded her needle with a steady hand, and then observed, with perfect composure, –
    »It is hardly likely master would laugh, I should think, Miss, when he was in such danger: you must have been dreaming.«
    »I was not dreaming,« I said, with some warmth: for her brazen coolness provoked me. Again she looked at me; and with the same scrutinizing and conscious eye.
    »Have you told master that you heard a laugh?« she inquired.
    »I have not had the opportunity of speaking to him this morning.«
    »You did not think of opening your door and looking out into the gallery?« she further asked.
    She appeared to be cross-questioning me; attempting to draw from me information unawares: the idea struck me that if she discovered I knew or suspected her guilt, she would be playing off some of her malignant pranks on me; I thought it advisable to be on my guard.
    »On the contrary,« said I, »I bolted my door.«
    »Then you are not in the habit of bolting your door every night before you get into bed?«
    »Fiend! she wants to know my habits, that she may lay her plans accordingly!« Indignation again prevailed over prudence; I replied sharply, »Hitherto I have often omitted to fasten the bolt: I did not think it necessary. I was not aware any danger or annoyance was to be dreaded at Thornfield Hall: but in future« (and I laid marked stress on the words) »I shall take good care to make all secure before I venture to lie down.«
    »It will be wise so to do,« was her answer: »this neighbourhood is as quiet as any I know, and I never heard of the Hall being attempted by robbers since it was a house; though there are hundreds of pounds' worth of plate in the plate-closet, as is well known. And you see, for such a large house, there are very few servants, because master has never lived here much; and when he does come, being a bachelor, he needs little waiting on: but I always think it best to err on the safe side; a door is soon fastened, and it is as well to have a drawn bolt between one and any mischief that may be about. A deal of people, Miss, are for trusting all to Providence; but I say Providence will not dispense with the means, though he often blesses them when they are used discreetly.« And here she closed her harangue: a long one for her, and uttered with the demureness of a Quakeress.
    I still stood absolutely dumbfoundered at what appeared to me her miraculous self-possession and most inscrutable hypocrisy; when the cook entered.
    »Mrs. Poole,« said she, addressing Grace, »the servants' dinner will soon be ready: will you come down?«
    »No; just put my pint of porter and bit of pudding on a tray, and I'll carry it up stairs.«
    »You'll have some meat?«
    »Just a morsel, and a taste of cheese, that's all.«
    »And the sago?«
    »Never mind it, at present: I shall be coming down before tea-time: I'll make it myself.«
    The cook here turned to me, saying that Mrs. Fairfax was waiting for me: so I departed.
    I hardly heard Mrs. Fairfax's account of the curtain conflagration during dinner, so much was I occupied in puzzling my brains over the enigmatical character of Grace Poole; and still more in pondering the problem of her position at Thornfield: in questioning why she had not been given into custody that morning; or at the very least dismissed from her master's service. He had almost as much as declared his conviction of her criminality last night: what mysterious cause withheld him from accusing her? Why had he enjoined me too to secresy? It was strange: a bold, vindictive, and haughty gentleman seemed somehow in the power of one of the meanest of his dependants; so much in her power, that even when she lifted her hand against his life, he dared not openly charge her with the attempt, much less punish her for it.
    Had Grace been young and handsome, I should have been tempted to think that tenderer feelings than prudence or fear influenced Mr. Rochester in her behalf; but hard-favoured and matronly as she was, the idea could not be admitted. »Yet,« I reflected, »she has been young once; her youth would be contemporary with her master's: Mrs. Fairfax told me once, she had lived here many years. I