“Impossible to forget this night!”

“It is not impossible:  have some energy, man.  You thought you were as dead as a herring two hours since, and you are all alive and talking now.  There! —­ Carter has done with you or nearly so; I’ll make you decent in a trice.  Jane” (he turned to me for the first time since his re-entrance), “take this key:  go down into my bedroom, and walk straight forward into my dressing-room:  open the top drawer of the wardrobe and take out a clean shirt and neck-handkerchief:  bring them here; and be nimble.”

I went; sought the repository he had mentioned, found the articles named, and returned with them.

“Now,” said he, “go to the other side of the bed while I order his toilet; but don’t leave the room:  you may be wanted again.”

I retired as directed.

“Was anybody stirring below when you went down, Jane?” inquired Mr. Rochester presently.

“No, sir; all was very still.”

“We shall get you off cannily, Dick:  and it will be better, both for your sake, and for that of the poor creature in yonder.  I have striven long to avoid exposure, and I should not like it to come at last.  Here, Carter, help him on with his waist-coat.  Where did you leave your furred cloak?  You can’t travel a mile without that, I know, in this damned cold climate.  In your room? —­ Jane, run down to Mr. Mason’s room, —­ the one next mine, —­ and fetch a cloak you will see there.”

Again I ran, and again returned, bearing an immense mantle lined and edged with fur.

“Now, I’ve another errand for you,” said my untiring master; “you must away to my room again.  What a mercy you are shod with velvet, Jane! —­ a clod-hopping messenger would never do at this juncture.  You must open the middle drawer of my toilet-table and take out a little phial and a little glass you will find there, —­ quick!”

I flew thither and back, bringing the desired vessels.

“That’s well!  Now, doctor, I shall take the liberty of administering a dose myself, on my own responsibility.  I got this cordial at Rome, of an Italian charlatan —­ a fellow you would have kicked, Carter.  It is not a thing to be used indiscriminately, but it is good upon occasion:  as now, for instance.  Jane, a little water.”

He held out the tiny glass, and I half filled it from the water-bottle on the washstand.

“That will do; —­ now wet the lip of the phial.”

I did so; he measured twelve drops of a crimson liquid, and presented it to Mason.

“Drink, Richard:  it will give you the heart you lack, for an hour or so.”

“But will it hurt me? —­ is it inflammatory?”

“Drink! drink! drink!”

Mr. Mason obeyed, because it was evidently useless to resist.  He was dressed now:  he still looked pale, but he was no longer gory and sullied.  Mr. Rochester let him sit three minutes after he had swallowed the liquid; he then took his arm —