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art of the house； or let it off。 I can never submit to do that—yet how are we to get on？ Two…thirds of my ine goes in paying the interest of mortgages。 John gambles dreadfully； and always loses—poor boy！ He is beset by sharpers： John is sunk and degraded—his look is frightful—I feel ashamed for him when I see him。”
She was getting much excited。 “I think I had better leave her now；” said I to Bessie； who stood on the other side of the bed。
“Perhaps you had； Miss： but she often talks in this way towards night—in the morning she is calmer。”
I rose。 “Stop！” exclaimed Mrs。 Reed； “there is another thing I wished to say。 He threatens me—he continually threatens me with his own death； or mine： and I dream sometimes that I see him laid out with a great wound in his throat； or with a swollen and blackened face。 I am e to a strange pass： I have heavy troubles。 What is to be done？ How is the money to be had？”
Bessie now endeavoured to persuade her to take a sedative draught： she succeeded with difficulty。 Soon after； Mrs。 Reed grew more posed； and sank into a dozing state。 I then left her。
More than ten days elapsed before I had again any conversation with her。 She continued either delirious or lethargic； and the doctor forbade everything which could painfully excite her。 Meantime； I got on as well as I could with Georgiana and Eliza。 They were very cold； indeed； at first。 Eliza would sit half the day sewing； reading； or writing； and scarcely utter a word either to me or her sister。 Georgiana would chatter nonsense to her canary bird by the hour； and take no notice of me。 But I was determined not to seem at a loss for occupation or amusement： I had brought my drawing materials with me； and they served me for both。
Provided with a case of pencils； and some sheets of paper； I used to take a seat apart from them； near the window； and busy myself in sketching fancy vigtes； representing any scene that happened momentarily to shape itself in the ever…shifting kaleidoscope of imagination： a glimpse of sea between two rocks； the rising moon； and a ship crossing its disk； a group of reeds and water…flags； and a naiad’s head； crowned with lotus…flowers； rising out of them； an elf sitting in a hedge…sparrow’s nest； under a wreath of hawthorn… bloom
One morning I fell to sketching a face： what sort of a face it was to be； I did not care or know。 I took a soft black pencil； gave it a broad point； and worked away。 Soon I had traced on the paper a broad and prominent forehead and a square lower outline of visage： that contour gave me pleasure； my fingers proceeded actively to fill it with features。 Strongly…marked horizontal eyebrows must be traced under that brow； then followed； naturally； a well…defined nose； with a straight ridge and full nostrils； then a flexible… looking mouth； by no means narrow； then a firm chin； with a decided cleft down the middle of it： of course； some black whiskers were wanted； and some jetty hair； tufted on the temples； and waved above the forehead。 Now for the eyes： I had left them to the last； because they required the most careful working。 I drew them large； I shaped them well： the eyelashes I traced long and sombre； the irids lustrous and large。 “Good！ but not quite the thing；” I thought； as I surveyed the effect： “they want more force and spirit；” and I wrought the shades blacker； that the lights might flash more brilliantly—a happy touch or two secured success。 There； I had a friend’s face under my gaze； and what did it signify that those young ladies turned their backs on me？ I looked at it； I smiled at the speaking likeness： I was absorbed and content。
“Is that a portrait of some one you know？” asked Eliza； who had approached me unnoticed。 I responded that it was merely a fancy head； and hurried it beneath the other sheets。 Of course； I lied： it was； in fact； a very faithful representation of Mr。 Rochester。 But what was that to her； or to any one but myself？ Georgiana also advanced to look。 The other drawings pleased her much； but she called that “an ugly man。” They both seemed surprised at my skill。 I offered to sketch their portraits； and each； in turn； sat for a pencil outline。 Then Georgiana produced her album。 I promised to contribute a water…colour drawing： this put her at once into good humour。 She proposed a walk in the grounds。 Before we had been out two hours； we were deep in a confidential conversation： she had favoured me with a description of the brilliant winter she had spent in London two seasons ago—of the admiration she had there excited— the attention she had received； and I even got hints of the titled conquest she had made。 In the course of the afternoon and evening these hints were enlarged on： various soft conversations were reported； and sentimental scenes represented； and； in short； a volume of a novel of fashionable life was that day improvised by her for my benefit。 The munications were renewed from day to day： they always ran on the same theme—herself； her loves； and woes。 It was strange she never once adverted either to her mother’s illness； or her brother’s death； or the present gloomy state of the family prospects。 Her mind seemed wholly taken up with reminiscences of past gaiety； and aspirations after dissipations to e。 She passed about five minutes each day in her mother’s sick…room； and no more。
Eliza still spoke little： she had evidently no time to talk。 I never saw a busier person than she seemed to be； yet it was difficult to say what she did： or rather； to discover any result of her diligence。 She had an alarm to call her up early。 I know not how she occupied herself before breakfast； but after that meal she divided her time into regular portions； and each hour had its allotted task。 Three times a day she studied a little book； which I found； on inspection； was a mon Prayer Book。 I asked her once what was the great attraction of that volume； and she said； “the Rubric。” Three hours she gave to stitching； with gold thread； the border of a square crimson cloth； almost large enough for a carpet。 In answer to my inquiries after the use of this article； she informed me it was a covering for the altar of a new church lately erected near Gateshead。 Two hours she devoted to her diary； two to working by herself in the kitchen…garden； and one to the regulation of her accounts。 She seemed to want no pany； no conversation。 I believe she was happy in her way： this routine sufficed for her； and nothing annoyed her so much as the occurrence of any incident which forced her to vary its clockwork regularity。
She told me one evening； when more disposed to be municative than usual； that John’s conduct； and the threatened ruin of the family； had been a source of profound affliction to her： but she had now； she said； settled her mind； and formed her resolution。 Her own fortune she had taken care to secure； and when her mother died—and it was wholly improbable； she tranquilly remarked； that she should either recover or linger long—she would execute a long…cherished project： seek a retirement where punctual habits would be permanently secured from disturbance； and place safe barriers between herself and a frivolous world。 I asked if Georgiana would acpany her。