I was surprised at this circumstance: but still more was I amazed to perceive the air quite dim, as if filled with smoke; and, while looking to the right hand and left, to find whence these blue wreaths issued, I became further aware of a strong smell of burning.
Something creaked: it was a door ajar; and that door was Mr.Rochester's, and the smoke rushed in a cloud from thence.

I thought no more of Mrs.
Fairfax; I thought no more of Grace Poole, or the laugh: in an instant, I was within the chamber.

Tongues of flame darted round the bed: the curtains were on fire.

In the midst of blaze and vapour, Mr.Rochester lay stretched motionless, in deep sleep.
"Wake! wake!" I cried.

I shook him, but he only murmured and turned: the smoke had stupefied him.