Read the following extract from chapter 26 and answer the question that follows
He lifted the hangings from the wall, uncovering the second door: this, too, he opened. In a
room without a window, there burnt a fire guarded by a high and strong fender, and a lamp
suspended from the ceiling by a chain. Grace Poole bent over the fire, apparently cooking
something in a saucepan. In the deep shade, at the farther end of the room, a figure ran
backwards and forwards. What it was, whether beast or human being, one could not, at first
sight, tell: it grovelled, seemingly, on all fours; it snatched and growled like some strange
wild animal: but it was covered with clothing, and a quantity of dark, grizzled hair, wild as a
mane, hid its head and face.
"Good-morrow, Mrs. Poole!" said Mr. Rochester. "How are you? and how is your charge
to-day?"
"We're tolerable, sir, I thank you," replied Grace, lifting the boiling mess carefully on to
the hob: "rather snappish, but not 'rageous."
A fierce cry seemed to give the lie to her favourable report: the clothed hyena rose up, and
stood tall on its hind-feet.
"Ah! sir, she sees you!" exclaimed Grace: "you'd better not stay."
"Only a few moments, Grace: you must allow me a few moments."
"Take care then, sir!--for God's sake, take care!"
The maniac bellowed: she parted her shaggy locks from her visage, and gazed wildly at
her visitors. I recognised well that purple face,--those bloated features. Mrs. Poole
advanced.
"Keep out of the way," said Mr. Rochester, thrusting her aside: "she has no knife now, I
suppose, and I'm on my guard."
"One never knows what she has, sir: she is so cunning: it is not in mortal discretion to fathom
her craft."
We had better leave her," whispered Mason.
"Go to the devil!" was his brother-in-law's recommendation.
"'Ware!" cried Grace. The three gentlemen retreated simultaneously. Mr. Rochester flung me
behind him: the lunatic sprang and grappled his throat viciously, and laid her teeth to his
cheek: they struggled. She was a big woman, in stature almost equalling her husband, and
corpulent besides: she showed virile force in the contest--more than once she almost throttled
him, athletic as he was. He could have settled her with a well-planted blow; but he would not
strike: he would only wrestle. At last he mastered her arms; Grace Poole gave him a cord, and
he pinioned them behind her: with more rope, which was at hand, he bound her to a chair.
The operation was performed amidst the fiercest yells and the most convulsive plunges. Mr.
Rochester then turned to the spectators: he looked at them with a smile both acrid and
desolate.
"That is MY WIFE," said he. "Such is the sole conjugal embrace I am ever to know--such are
the endearments which are to solace my leisure hours! And THIS is what I wished to have"
(laying his hand on my shoulder): "this young girl, who stands so grave and quiet at the
