Rise, Miss Eyre: leave me; the play is played out'." Where was I?
Did I wake or sleep?
Had I been dreaming?
Did I dream still?
The old woman's voice had changed: her accent, her gesture, and all were familiar to me as my own face in a glass--as the speech of my own tongue.

I got up, but did not go.

I looked; I stirred the fire, and I looked again: but she drew her bonnet and her bandage closer about her face, and again beckoned me to depart.

The flame illuminated her hand stretched out: roused now, and on the alert for discoveries, I at once noticed that hand.

It was no more the withered limb of eld than my own; it was a rounded supple member, with smooth fingers, symmetrically turned; a broad ring flashed on the little finger, and stooping forward, I looked at it, and saw a gem I had seen a hundred times before.