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- Шарлотта Бронте
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- Джэйн Эйр
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"
Have
you
any
salts
--
volatile
salts
?
"
"
Yes
.
"
"
Go
back
and
fetch
both
.
"
I
returned
,
sought
the
sponge
on
the
washstand
,
the
salts
in
my
drawer
,
and
once
more
retraced
my
steps
.
He
still
waited
;
he
held
a
key
in
his
hand
:
approaching
one
of
the
small
,
black
doors
,
he
put
it
in
the
lock
;
he
paused
,
and
addressed
me
again
.
"
You
do
n't
turn
sick
at
the
sight
of
blood
?
"
"
I
think
I
shall
not
:
I
have
never
been
tried
yet
.
"
I
felt
a
thrill
while
I
answered
him
;
but
no
coldness
,
and
no
faintness
.
"
Just
give
me
your
hand
,
"
he
said
:
"
it
will
not
do
to
risk
a
fainting
fit
.
"
I
put
my
fingers
into
his
.
"
Warm
and
steady
,
"
was
his
remark
:
he
turned
the
key
and
opened
the
door
.
