Chapter 19
The old crone “nichered” a laugh under her bonnet and bandage; she then drew out a short black pipe, and lighting it began to smoke.  Having indulged a while in this sedative, she raised her bent body, took the pipe from her lips, and while gazing steadily at the fire, said very deliberately—“You are cold; you are sick; and you are silly.”
Again I looked at the face; which was no longer turned from me—on the contrary, the bonnet was doffed, the bandage displaced, the head advanced. / “Well, Jane, do you know me?” asked the familiar voice. / “Only take off the red cloak, sir, and then—” / “But the string is in a knot—help me.” / “Break it, sir.” / “There, then—‘Off, ye lendings!’” And Mr. Rochester stepped out of his disguise. / “Now, sir, what a strange idea!” / “But well carried out, eh?  Don’t you think so?” / “With the ladies you must have managed well.” / “But not with you?” / “You did not act the character of a gipsy with me.” / “What character did I act?  My own?” / “No; some unaccountable one.  In short, I believe you have been trying to draw me out—or in; you have been talking nonsense to make me talk nonsense.  It is scarcely fair, sir.”