"I have a witness to the fact; whose testimony even you, sir, will scarcely controvert."
"Produce him—or go to hell."
"I will produce him first—he is on the spot: Mr. Mason, have the goodness to step forward."
Mr. Rochester on hearing the name set his teeth; he experienced, too, a sort of strong convulsive quiver: near to him as I was, I felt the spasmodic movement of fury or despair run through his frame. The second stranger, who had hitherto lingered in the background, now drew near; a pale face looked over the solicitor's shoulder—yes, it was Mason himself. Mr. Rochester turned and glared at him. His eye, as I have often said, was a black eye: it had now a tawny, nay a bloody light in its gloom; and his face flushed—olive cheek and hueless forehead received a glow, as from spreading, ascending heart-fire; and he stirred, lifted his strong arm—he could have struck Mason—dashed him on the church-floor—shocked by ruthless blow the breath from his body—but Mason shrank away, and cried faintly, "Good God!" Contempt fell cool on
