Mr. Rochester held the candle over him; I recognised in his pale and seemingly lifeless face--the stranger, Mason: I saw too that his linen on one side, and one arm, was almost soaked in blood.
A la luz de la bujía de Rochester reconocí en aquella pálida faz la de Mason, el forastero. Uno de sus brazos y su camisa estaban empapados en sangre. -Tome la vela -dijo Rochester.