"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--

     "Now I am sure you can get on your feet," he said--"try."

     The patient rose.

     "Carter, take him under the other shoulder. Be of good cheer, Richard; step out--that's it!"

     "I do feel better," remarked Mr. Mason.

     "I am sure you do. Now, Jane, trip on before us away to the backstairs; unbolt the side-passage door, and tell the driver of the post-chaise you will see in the yard--or just outside, for I told him not to drive his rattling wheels over the pavement--to be ready; we are coming: and, Jane, if any one is about, come to the foot of the stairs and hem."