She started as if she had seen a ghost. I calmed her, and followed her into the kitchen, where I explained in a few words that I should stay for the night, and that John must fetch my trunk from the turnpike house. At this moment the parlour bell rang.
Mary proceeded to fill a glass with water and place it on a tray, together with candles.
"Give the tray to me; I will carry it in."
The old dog Pilot pricked up his ears as I entered the room; then he jumped up with a yelp, and bounded towards me, almost knocking the tray from my hands.
"What is the matter?" inquired Mr. Rochester.
He put out his hand with a quick gesture. "Who is this?" he demanded imperiously.
"Will you have a little more water, sir? I spilt half of what was in the glass," I said.
"What is it? Who speaks?"
"Pilot knows me, and John and Mary know I am here," I answered.
He groped, and, arresting his wandering hand, I prisoned it in both mine.