“Isthereimmediatedanger？”murmuredMr。Mason。
“Pooh！No—amerescratch。Don’tbesoovercome，man:bearup！I’llfetchasurgeonforyounow，myself:you’llbeabletoberemovedbymorning，Ihope。Jane，”hecontinued。
“Sir？”
“Ishallhavetoleaveyouinthisroomwiththisgentleman，foranhour，orperhapstwohours:youwillspongethebloodasIdowhenitreturns:ifhefeelsfaint，youwillputtheglassofwateronthatstandtohislips，andyoursaltstohisnose。Youwillnotspeaktohimonanypretext—and—Richard，itwillbeattheperilofyourlifeifyouspeaktoher:openyourlips—agitateyourself—andI’llnotanswerfortheconsequences。”
Againthepoormangroaned;helookedasifhedarednotmove;fear，eitherofdeathorofsomethingelse，appearedalmosttoparalysehim。Mr。Rochesterputthenowbloodyspongeintomyhand，andIproceededtouseitashehaddone。Hewatchedmeasecond，thensaying，“Remember！—Noconversation，”helefttheroom。Iexperiencedastrangefeelingasthekeygratedinthelock，andthesoundofhisretreatingstepceasedtobeheard。