GoodParagraphsAsingularnotiondawneduponme.Idoubtednot—neverdoubted–thatifMr.Reedhadbeenalivehewouldhavetreatedmekindly;andnow,asIsatlookingatthewhitebedandovershadowedwalls–occasionallyalsoturningafascinatedeyetowardsthedimlygleamingmirror—IbegantorecallwhatIhadheardofdeadmen,troubledintheirgravesbytheviolationoftheirlastwishes,revisingtheearthtopunishtheperjuredandavengetheoppressed;andIthoughtMr.Reed’sspirit,harassedbythewrongofhissister’schild,mightquititsabode—whetherinthechurchvaultorintheunknownworldofthedeparted–andrisebeforemeinthischamber.Iwipedmytearsandhushedmysobs,fearfullestanysignofviolentgriefmightwakenapreternaturalvoicetocomfortme,orelicitfromthegloomsomehaloedface,bendingovermewithstrangepity.Thisidea,consolatoryintheoryIfeltwouldbeterribleifrealized:withallmymightIendeavoredtostifleit—Iendeavoredtobefirm.Shakingmyhairfrommyeyes,Iliftedmyheadandtriedtolookboldlyaroundthedarkroom;atthismomentalightgleamedonthewall.Wasit,Iaskedmyself,arayfromthemoonpenetratingsomeapertureintheblind?No;moonlightwasstill,andthisstirred;whileIgazed,itglideduptotheceilingandquiveredovermyhead.Icannowconjecturereadilythatthisstreakoflightwas,inalllikelihood,agleamfromalanterncarriedbysomeoneacrossthelawn;butthen,preparedasmymindwasforhorror,shakenasmynerveswerebyagitation,Ithoughttheswift-dartingbeamwasaheraldofsomecomingvisionfromanotherworld.Myheartbeatthick,myheadgrewhot;asoundfilledmyears,whichIdeemedtherushingofwings;somethingseemednearme;Iwasoppressed,suffocated:endurancebrokedown;Irushedtothedoorandshookthelockindesperateeffort.Stepscamerunningalongtheouterpassage;thekeyturned,BessieandAbbotentered.P12ThenextthingIrememberiswakingupwithafeelingasifIhadhadafrightfulnightmare,andseeingbeforemeaterribleredglare,crossedwiththickblackbars.Iheardvoices,too,speakingwithahollowsound,andasifmuffledbyarushofwindorwateragitation,uncertainty,andanall-predominatingsenseofterrorconfusedmyfaculties.Erelong,Ibecameawarethatsomeonewashandlingme;liftingmeupandsupportingmeinasittingposture,andthatmoretenderlythanIhadeverbeenraisedorupheldbefore.Irestedmyheadagainstapilloworanarm,andfelteasy.
Infiveminutesmorethecloudofbewildermentdissolved:IknewquitewellthatIwasinmyownbed,andthattheredglarewasthenurseryfire.Itwasnight:acandleburntonthetable:Bessiestoodatthebed-footwithabasininherhand,andagentlemansatinachairnearmypillow,leaningoverme.Ifeltaninexpressiblerelief,asoothingconvictionofprotectionandsecurity,whenIknewthattherewasastrangerintheroomandindividualnotbelongingtoGateshead,andnotrelatedtoMrs.Reed.TurningfromBessie(thoughherpresencewasfarlessobnoxioustomethanthatofAbbot,forinstance,wouldhavebeen),Iscrutinizedthefaceofthegentlemen:Iknewhim;itwasMr.Lloyd,anapothecary,sometimescalledinbyMrs.Reedwhentheservantwereailing:forherselfandthechildrensheemployedaphysician.P14Bessiehadbeendownintothekitchen,andshebroughtupwithheratartonacertainbrightlypaintedchinaplate,whosebirdofparadise,nestlinginawreathofconvolvuliandrosebuds,hadbeenwonttostirinmeamostenthusiasticsenseofadmirationandwhichplateIhadoftenpetitionedtobeallowedtotakeinmyhandinordertoexamineitmoreclosely,buthadalwayshithertobeendeemedunworthysuchaprivilege.Thispreciousvesselwasnowplacedonmyknee,andIwascordiallyinvitedtoeatthecircletofdelicatepastryuponit.Vainfavour!Coming,likemostotherfavourslongdeferredandoftenwishedfor,toolate!Icouldnotearthetart:andtheplumageofthebird,thetintsoftheflowersseemedstrangelyfaded!Iputbothplateandtartaway.BessieaskedifIwouldhaveabook:thewordbookactedasatransientstimulus,andIbeggedhertofetchGulliver’sTravelsfromthelibrary.ThisbookIhadagainandagainperusedwithdelight.Iconsideredanarrativeoffacts,anddiscoveredinitaveinofinterestdeeperthanwhatIfoundinfairytales:forastotheelves,havingsoughttheminvainamongfoxgloveleavesandbellsundermushroomsandbeneaththeground-ivymantlingoldwallnooks,Ihadatlengthmakeupmymindtothesadtruth,thattheywereallgoneoutofEnglandtosomesavagecountrywherethewoodswerewilderandthickerandthepopulationmorescant;whereasLilliputtandBrobdingnagbeing,inmycreed,solidpartsoftheearth’ssurface,IdoubtednotthatImightoneday,bytakingalongvoyage,seewithmyowneyesthelittlefields,housesandtrees,thediminutivepeople,thetinycows,sheepandbirdsoftheonerealm;andthecornfieldsforest-high,themightymastiffs,themonstercats,thetower-likemenandwomenoftheother.Yet,whenthischerishedvolumewasnowplacedinmyhands—whenIturnedoveritsleaves,andsoughtinitsmarvelouspicturesthecharmIhad,tillnow,neverfailedtofind—allwaseerieanddreary;thefaintsweregauntgoblins,thepigmiesmalevolentandfearfulimps,Gulliveramostdesolatewandererinmostdreadanddangerousregions.Iclosedthebook,whichIdarednolongerperuse,andputitonthetablebesidetheuntastedtart.