CHAPTER TWELVE
The Gypsy
Mr. Rochester's face went white. For a few minutes, he did not speak. Finally I asked, "are you ill, sir?"
"Jane, help me," he said. I helped him to sit down, and then sat next to him. He held my handtightly.
"Jane, I wish you and I were far away from here, with none of these terrible troubles to make mesuffer."
"How can I help you, sir? Pleas tell me what is wrong!"
"Jane, I promise I'll ask you if I need help, but I cannot tell you anything now. Get me a glass of [-----1-----], please." I did what he asked. He looked less pale, but very [-----2-----].
After a while he spoke. "Jane, if all those fine ladies and gentlemen out there came and called me terrible names, what would you do?" he asked.
"If I could, I'd make them leave the house."
"Or, if they only looked at me, and then said terrible things about me when I could not hear, and then left me alone in the house?"
"I wouldn't leave you. I'd stay with you and [-----3-----] you, sir."
"And if it seemed like the whole world was against me, would you still stay with me?"
"Sir, if you deserved my friendship I wouldn't care what other people thought."
"Thank you, Jane. I would like to see Mr. Mason now." After I found Mr. Mason and left the two men talking in the library, I went to bed, wondering about Mr. Rochester's strange, serious questions.
Some time later, I heard him walking with Mr. Mason to his bedroom, and I was glad that Mr. Rochester sounded happier
