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Chapter 24


CHAPTER XXIV


As I rose and dressed, I thought over what had happened, and
wondered if it were a dream.  I could not be certain of the reality
till I had seen Mr. Rochester again, and heard him renew his words
of love and promise.

While arranging my hair, I looked at my face in the glass, and felt
it was no longer plain:  there was hope in its aspect and life in
its colour; and my eyes seemed as if they had beheld the fount of
fruition, and borrowed beams from the lustrous ripple.  I had often
been unwilling to look at my master, because I feared he could not
be pleased at my look; but I was sure I might lift my face to his
now, and not cool his affection by its expression.  I took a plain
but clean and light summer dress from my drawer and put it on:  it
seemed no attire had ever so well become me, because none had I ever
worn in so blissful a mood.

I was not surprised, when I ran down into the hall, to see that a
brilliant June morning had succeeded to the tempest of the night;
and to feel, through the open glass door, the breathing of a fresh
and fragrant breeze.  Nature must be gladsome when I was so happy.
A beggar-woman and her little boy--pale, ragged objects both--were
coming up the walk, and I ran down and gave them all the money I
happened to have in my purse--some three or four shillings:  good or
bad, they must partake of my jubilee.  The rooks cawed, and blither
birds sang; but nothing was so merry or so musical as my own
rejoicing heart.

Mrs. Fairfax surprised me by looking out of the window with a sad
countenance, and saying gravely--"Miss Eyre, will you come to
breakfast?"  During the meal she was quiet and cool:  but I could
not undeceive her then.  I must wait for my master to give
explanations; and so must she.  I ate what I could, and then I
hastened upstairs.  I met Adele leaving the schoolroom.

"Where are you going?  It is time for lessons."

"Mr. Rochester has sent me away to the nursery."

"Where is he?"

"In there," pointing to the apartment she had left; and I went in,
and there he stood.

"Come and bid me good-morning," said he.  I gladly advanced; and it
was not merely a cold word now, or even a shake of the hand that I
received, but an embrace and a kiss.  It seemed natural:  it seemed
genial to be so well loved, so caressed by him.

"Jane, you look blooming, and smiling, and pretty," said he:  "truly
pretty this morning.  Is this my pale, little elf?  Is this my
mustard-seed?  This little sunny-faced girl with the dimpled cheek
and rosy lips; the satin-smooth hazel hair, and the radiant hazel
eyes?"  (I had green eyes, reader; but you must excuse the mistake:
for him they were new-dyed, I suppose.)

"It is Jane Eyre, sir."

"Soon to be Jane Rochester," he added:  "in four weeks, Janet; not a
day more.  Do you hear that?"

I did, and I could not quite comprehend it:  it made me giddy.  The
feeling, the announcement sent through me, was something stronger
than was consistent with joy--something that smote and stunned.  It
was, I think almost fear.

"You blushed, and now you are white, Jane:  what is that for?"

"Because you gave me a new name--Jane Rochester; and it seems so
strange."

"Yes, Mrs. Rochester," said he; "young Mrs. Rochester--Fairfax
Rochester's girl-bride."

"It can never be, sir; it does not sound likely.  Human beings never
enjoy complete happiness in this world.  I was not born for a
different destiny to the rest of my species:  to imagine such a lot
befalling me is a fairy tale--a day-dream."

"Which I can and will realise.  I shall begin to-day.  This morning
I wrote to my banker in London to send me certain jewels he has in
his keeping,--heirlooms for the ladies of Thornfield.  In a day or
two I hope to pour them into your lap:  for every privilege, every
attention shall be yours that I would accord a peer's daughter, if
about to marry her."

"Oh, sir!--never rain jewels!  I don't like to hear them spoken of.
Jewels for Jane Eyre sounds unnatural and strange:  I would rather
not have them."

"I will myself put the diamond chain round your neck, and the
circlet on your forehead,--which it will become:  for nature, at
least, has stamped her patent of nobility on this brow, Jane; and I
will clasp the bracelets on these fine wrists, and load these fairy-
like fingers with rings."

"No, no, sir! think of other subjects, and speak of other things,
and in another strain.  Don't address me as if I were a beauty; I am
your plain, Quakerish governess."

"You are a beauty in my eyes, and a beauty just after the desire of
my heart,--delicate and aerial."

"Puny and insignificant, you mean.  You are dreaming, sir,--or you
are sneering.  For God's sake don't be ironical!"

"I will make the world acknowledge you a beauty, too," he went on,
while I really became uneasy at the strain he had adopted, because I
felt he was either deluding himself or trying to delude me.  "I will
attire my Jane in satin and lace, and she shall have roses in her
hair; and I will cover the head I love best with a priceless veil."

"And then you won't know me, sir; and I shall not be your Jane Eyre
any longer, but an ape in a harlequin's jacket--a jay in borrowed
plumes.  I would as soon see you, Mr. Rochester, tricked out in
stage-trappings, as myself clad in a court-lady's robe; and I don't
call you handsome, sir, though I love you most dearly:  far too
dearly to flatter you.  Don't flatter me."

He pursued his theme, however, without noticing my deprecation.
"This very day I shall take you in the carriage to Millcote, and you
must choose some dresses for yourself.  I told you we shall be
married in four weeks.  The wedding is to take place quietly, in the
church down below yonder; and then I shall waft you away at once to
town.  After a brief stay there, I shall bear my treasure to regions
nearer the sun:  to French vineyards and Italian plains; and she
shall see whatever is famous in old story and in modern record:  she
shall taste, too, of the life of cities; and she shall learn to
value herself by just comparison with others."

"Shall I travel?--and with you, sir?"

"You shall sojourn at Paris, Rome, and Naples:  at Florence, Venice,
and Vienna:  all the ground I have wandered over shall be re-trodden
by you:  wherever I stamped my hoof, your sylph's foot shall step
also.  Ten years since, I flew through Europe half mad; with
disgust, hate, and rage as my companions:  now I shall revisit it
healed and cleansed, with a very angel as my comforter."

I laughed at him as he said this.  "I am not an angel," I asserted;
"and I will not be one till I die:  I will be myself.  Mr.
Rochester, you must neither expect nor exact anything celestial of
me--for you will not get it, any more than I shall get it of you:
which I do not at all anticipate."

"What do you anticipate of me?"

"For a little while you will perhaps be as you are now,--a very
little while; and then you will turn cool; and then you will be
capricious; and then you will be stern, and I shall have much ado to
please you:  but when you get well used to me, you will perhaps like
me again,--LIKE me, I say, not LOVE me.  I suppose your love will
effervesce in six months, or less.  I have observed in books written
by men, that period assigned as the farthest to which a husband's
ardour extends.  Yet, after all, as a friend and companion, I hope
never to become quite distasteful to my dear master."

"Distasteful! and like you again!  I think I shall like you again,
and yet again:  and I will make you confess I do not only LIKE, but
LOVE you--with truth, fervour, constancy."

"Yet are you not capricious, sir?"

"To women who please me only by their faces, I am the very devil
when I find out they have neither souls nor hearts--when they open
to me a perspective of flatness, triviality, and perhaps imbecility,
coarseness, and ill-temper:  but to the clear eye and eloquent
tongue, to the soul made of fire, and the character that bends but
does not break--at once supple and stable, tractable and consistent-
-I am ever tender and true."

"Had you ever experience of such a character, sir?  Did you ever
love such an one?"

"I love it now."

"But before me:  if I, indeed, in any respect come up to your
difficult standard?"

"I never met your likeness.  Jane, you please me, and you master me-
-you seem to submit, and I like the sense of pliancy you impart; and
while I am twining the soft, silken skein round my finger, it sends
a thrill up my arm to my heart.  I am influenced--conquered; and the
influence is sweeter than I can express; and the conquest I undergo
has a witchery beyond any triumph I can win.  Why do you smile,
Jane?  What does that inexplicable, that uncanny turn of countenance
mean?"

"I was thinking, sir (you will excuse the idea; it was involuntary),
I was thinking of Hercules and Samson with their charmers--"

"You were, you little elfish--"

"Hush, sir!  You don't talk very wisely just now; any more than
those gentlemen acted very wisely.  However, had they been married,
they would no doubt by their severity as husbands have made up for
their softness as suitors; and so will you, I fear.  I wonder how
you will answer me a year hence, should I ask a favour it does not
suit your convenience or pleasure to grant."

"Ask me something now, Jane,--the least thing:  I desire to be
entreated--"

"Indeed I will, sir; I have my petition all ready."

"Speak!  But if you look up and smile with that countenance, I shall
swear concession before I know to what, and that will make a fool of
me."

"Not at all, sir; I ask only this:  don't send for the jewels, and
don't crown me with roses:  you might as well put a border of gold
lace round that plain pocket handkerchief you have there."

"I might as well 'gild refined gold.'  I know it:  you request is
granted then--for the time.  I will remand the order I despatched to
my banker.  But you have not yet asked for anything; you have prayed
a gift to be withdrawn:  try again."

"Well then, sir, have the goodness to gratify my curiosity, which is
much piqued on one point."

He looked disturbed.  "What? what?" he said hastily.  "Curiosity is
a dangerous petition:  it is well I have not taken a vow to accord
every request--"

"But there can be no danger in complying with this, sir."

"Utter it, Jane:  but I wish that instead of a mere inquiry into,
perhaps, a secret, it was a wish for half my estate."

"Now, King Ahasuerus!  What do I want with half your estate?  Do you
think I am a Jew-usurer, seeking good investment in land?  I would
much rather have all your confidence.  You will not exclude me from
your confidence if you admit me to your heart?"

"You are welcome to all my confidence that is worth having, Jane;
but for God's sake, don't desire a useless burden!  Don't long for
poison--don't turn out a downright Eve on my hands!"

"Why not, sir?  You have just been telling me how much you liked to
be conquered, and how pleasant over-persuasion is to you.  Don't you
think I had better take advantage of the confession, and begin and
coax and entreat--even cry and be sulky if necessary--for the sake
of a mere essay of my power?"

"I dare you to any such experiment.  Encroach, presume, and the game
is up."

"Is it, sir?  You soon give in.  How stern you look now!  Your
eyebrows have become as thick as my finger, and your forehead
resembles what, in some very astonishing poetry, I once saw styled,
'a blue-piled thunderloft.'  That will be your married look, sir, I
suppose?"

"If that will be YOUR married look, I, as a Christian, will soon
give up the notion of consorting with a mere sprite or salamander.
But what had you to ask, thing,--out with it?"

"There, you are less than civil now; and I like rudeness a great
deal better than flattery.  I had rather be a THING than an angel.
This is what I have to ask,--Why did you take such pains to make me
believe you wished to marry Miss Ingram?"

"Is that all?  Thank God it is no worse!"  And now he unknit his
black brows; looked down, smiling at me, and stroked my hair, as if
well pleased at seeing a danger averted.  "I think I may confess,"
he continued, "even although I should make you a little indignant,
Jane--and I have seen what a fire-spirit you can be when you are
indignant.  You glowed in the cool moonlight last night, when you
mutinied against fate, and claimed your rank as my equal.  Janet,
by-the-bye, it was you who made me the offer."

"Of course I did.  But to the point if you please, sir--Miss
Ingram?"

"Well, I feigned courtship of Miss Ingram, because I wished to
render you as madly in love with me as I was with you; and I knew
jealousy would be the best ally I could call in for the furtherance
of that end."

"Excellent!  Now you are small--not one whit bigger than the end of
my little finger.  It was a burning shame and a scandalous disgrace
to act in that way.  Did you think nothing of Miss Ingram's
feelings, sir?"

"Her feelings are concentrated in one--pride; and that needs
humbling.  Were you jealous, Jane?"

"Never mind, Mr. Rochester:  it is in no way interesting to you to
know that.  Answer me truly once more.  Do you think Miss Ingram
will not suffer from your dishonest coquetry?  Won't she feel
forsaken and deserted?"

"Impossible!--when I told you how she, on the contrary, deserted me:
the idea of my insolvency cooled, or rather extinguished, her flame
in a moment."

"You have a curious, designing mind, Mr. Rochester.  I am afraid
your principles on some points are eccentric."

"My principles were never trained, Jane:  they may have grown a
little awry for want of attention."

"Once again, seriously; may I enjoy the great good that has been
vouchsafed to me, without fearing that any one else is suffering the
bitter pain I myself felt a while ago?"

"That you may, my good little girl:  there is not another being in
the world has the same pure love for me as yourself--for I lay that
pleasant unction to my soul, Jane, a belief in your affection."

I turned my lips to the hand that lay on my shoulder.  I loved him
very much--more than I could trust myself to say--more than words
had power to express.

"Ask something more," he said presently; "it is my delight to be
entreated, and to yield."

I was again ready with my request.  "Communicate your intentions to
Mrs. Fairfax, sir:  she saw me with you last night in the hall, and
she was shocked.  Give her some explanation before I see her again.
It pains me to be misjudged by so good a woman."

"Go to your room, and put on your bonnet," he replied.  "I mean you
to accompany me to Millcote this morning; and while you prepare for
the drive, I will enlighten the old lady's understanding.  Did she
think, Janet, you had given the world for love, and considered it
well lost?"

"I believe she thought I had forgotten my station, and yours, sir."

"Station! station!--your station is in my heart, and on the necks of
those who would insult you, now or hereafter.--Go."

I was soon dressed; and when I heard Mr. Rochester quit Mrs.
Fairfax's parlour, I hurried down to it.  The old lady, had been
reading her morning portion of Scripture--the Lesson for the day;
her Bible lay open before her, and her spectacles were upon it.  Her
occupation, suspended by Mr. Rochester's announcement, seemed now
forgotten:  her eyes, fixed on the blank wall opposite, expressed
the surprise of a quiet mind stirred by unwonted tidings.  Seeing
me, she roused herself:  she made a sort of effort to smile, and
framed a few words of congratulation; but the smile expired, and the
sentence was abandoned unfinished.  She put up her spectacles, shut
the Bible, and pushed her chair back from the table.

"I feel so astonished," she began, "I hardly know what to say to
you, Miss Eyre.  I have surely not been dreaming, have I?  Sometimes
I half fall asleep when I am sitting alone and fancy things that
have never happened.  It has seemed to me more than once when I have
been in a doze, that my dear husband, who died fifteen years since,
has come in and sat down beside me; and that I have even heard him
call me by my name, Alice, as he used to do.  Now, can you tell me
whether it is actually true that Mr. Rochester has asked you to
marry him?  Don't laugh at me.  But I really thought he came in here
five minutes ago, and said that in a month you would be his wife."

"He has said the same thing to me," I replied.

"He has!  Do you believe him?  Have you accepted him?"

"Yes."

She looked at me bewildered.  "I could never have thought it.  He is
a proud man:  all the Rochesters were proud:  and his father, at
least, liked money.  He, too, has always been called careful.  He
means to marry you?"

"He tells me so."

She surveyed my whole person:  in her eyes I read that they had
there found no charm powerful enough to solve the enigma.

"It passes me!" she continued; "but no doubt, it is true since you
say so.  How it will answer, I cannot tell:  I really don't know.
Equality of position and fortune is often advisable in such cases;
and there are twenty years of difference in your ages.  He might
almost be your father."

"No, indeed, Mrs. Fairfax!" exclaimed I, nettled; "he is nothing
like my father!  No one, who saw us together, would suppose it for
an instant.  Mr. Rochester looks as young, and is as young, as some
men at five-and-twenty."

"Is it really for love he is going to marry you?" she asked.

I was so hurt by her coldness and scepticism, that the tears rose to
my eyes.

"I am sorry to grieve you," pursued the widow; "but you are so
young, and so little acquainted with men, I wished to put you on
your guard.  It is an old saying that 'all is not gold that
glitters;' and in this case I do fear there will be something found
to be different to what either you or I expect."

"Why?--am I a monster?" I said:  "is it impossible that Mr.
Rochester should have a sincere affection for me?"

"No:  you are very well; and much improved of late; and Mr.
Rochester, I daresay, is fond of you.  I have always noticed that
you were a sort of pet of his.  There are times when, for your sake,
I have been a little uneasy at his marked preference, and have
wished to put you on your guard:  but I did not like to suggest even
the possibility of wrong.  I knew such an idea would shock, perhaps
offend you; and you were so discreet, and so thoroughly modest and
sensible, I hoped you might be trusted to protect yourself.  Last
night I cannot tell you what I suffered when I sought all over the
house, and could find you nowhere, nor the master either; and then,
at twelve o'clock, saw you come in with him."

"Well, never mind that now," I interrupted impatiently; "it is
enough that all was right."

"I hope all will be right in the end," she said:  "but believe me,
you cannot be too careful.  Try and keep Mr. Rochester at a
distance:  distrust yourself as well as him.  Gentlemen in his
station are not accustomed to marry their governesses."

I was growing truly irritated:  happily, Adele ran in.

"Let me go,--let me go to Millcote too!" she cried.  "Mr. Rochester
won't:  though there is so much room in the new carriage.  Beg him
to let me go mademoiselle."

"That I will, Adele;" and I hastened away with her, glad to quit my
gloomy monitress.  The carriage was ready:  they were bringing it
round to the front, and my master was the pavement, Pilot following
him backwards and forwards.

"Adele may accompany us, may she not, sir?"

"I told her no.  I'll have no brats!--I'll have only you."

"Do let her go, Mr. Rochester, if you please:  it would be better."

"Not it:  she will be a restraint."

He was quite peremptory, both in look and voice.  The chill of Mrs.
Fairfax's warnings, and the damp of her doubts were upon me:
something of unsubstantiality and uncertainty had beset my hopes.  I
half lost the sense of power over him.  I was about mechanically to
obey him, without further remonstrance; but as he helped me into the
carriage, he looked at my face.

"What is the matter?" he asked; "all the sunshine is gone.  Do you
really wish the bairn to go?  Will it annoy you if she is left
behind?"

"I would far rather she went, sir."

"Then off for your bonnet, and back like a flash of lightning!"
cried he to Adele.

She obeyed him with what speed she might.

"After all, a single morning's interruption will not matter much,"
said he, "when I mean shortly to claim you--your thoughts,
conversation, and company--for life."

Adele, when lifted in, commenced kissing me, by way of expressing
her gratitude for my intercession:  she was instantly stowed away
into a corner on the other side of him.  She then peeped round to
where I sat; so stern a neighbour was too restrictive to him, in his
present fractious mood, she dared whisper no observations, nor ask
of him any information.

"Let her come to me," I entreated:  "she will, perhaps, trouble you,
sir:  there is plenty of room on this side."

He handed her over as if she had been a lapdog.  "I'll send her to
school yet," he said, but now he was smiling.

Adele heard him, and asked if she was to go to school "sans
mademoiselle?"

"Yes," he replied, "absolutely sans mademoiselle; for I am to take
mademoiselle to the moon, and there I shall seek a cave in one of
the white valleys among the volcano-tops, and mademoiselle shall
live with me there, and only me."

"She will have nothing to eat:  you will starve her," observed
Adele.

"I shall gather manna for her morning and night:  the plains and
hillsides in the moon are bleached with manna, Adele."

"She will want to warm herself:  what will she do for a fire?"

"Fire rises out of the lunar mountains:  when she is cold, I'll
carry her up to a peak, and lay her down on the edge of a crater."

"Oh, qu' elle y sera mal--peu comfortable!  And her clothes, they
will wear out:  how can she get new ones?"

Mr. Rochester professed to be puzzled.  "Hem!" said he.  "What would
you do, Adele?  Cudgel your brains for an expedient.  How would a
white or a pink cloud answer for a gown, do you think?  And one
could cut a pretty enough scarf out of a rainbow."

"She is far better as she is," concluded Adele, after musing some
time:  "besides, she would get tired of living with only you in the
moon.  If I were mademoiselle, I would never consent to go with
you."

"She has consented:  she has pledged her word."

"But you can't get her there; there is no road to the moon:  it is
all air; and neither you nor she can fly."

"Adele, look at that field."  We were now outside Thornfield gates,
and bowling lightly along the smooth road to Millcote, where the
dust was well laid by the thunderstorm, and, where the low hedges
and lofty timber trees on each side glistened green and rain-
refreshed.

"In that field, Adele, I was walking late one evening about a
fortnight since--the evening of the day you helped me to make hay in
the orchard meadows; and, as I was tired with raking swaths, I sat
down to rest me on a stile; and there I took out a little book and a
pencil, and began to write about a misfortune that befell me long
ago, and a wish I had for happy days to come:  I was writing away
very fast, though daylight was fading from the leaf, when something
came up the path and stopped two yards off me.  I looked at it.  It
was a little thing with a veil of gossamer on its head.  I beckoned
it to come near me; it stood soon at my knee.  I never spoke to it,
and it never spoke to me, in words; but I read its eyes, and it read
mine; and our speechless colloquy was to this effect -

"It was a fairy, and come from Elf-land, it said; and its errand was
to make me happy:  I must go with it out of the common world to a
lonely place--such as the moon, for instance--and it nodded its head
towards her horn, rising over Hay-hill:  it told me of the alabaster
cave and silver vale where we might live.  I said I should like to
go; but reminded it, as you did me, that I had no wings to fly.

"'Oh,' returned the fairy, 'that does not signify!  Here is a
talisman will remove all difficulties;' and she held out a pretty
gold ring.  'Put it,' she said, 'on the fourth finger of my left
hand, and I am yours, and you are mine; and we shall leave earth,
and make our own heaven yonder.'  She nodded again at the moon.  The
ring, Adele, is in my breeches-pocket, under the disguise of a
sovereign:  but I mean soon to change it to a ring again."

"But what has mademoiselle to do with it?  I don't care for the
fairy:  you said it was mademoiselle you would take to the moon?"

"Mademoiselle is a fairy," he said, whispering mysteriously.
Whereupon I told her not to mind his badinage; and she, on her part,
evinced a fund of genuine French scepticism:  denominating Mr.
Rochester "un vrai menteur," and assuring him that she made no
account whatever of his "contes de fee," and that "du reste, il n'y
avait pas de fees, et quand meme il y en avait:" she was sure they
would never appear to him, nor ever give him rings, or offer to live
with him in the moon.

The hour spent at Millcote was a somewhat harassing one to me.  Mr.
Rochester obliged me to go to a certain silk warehouse:  there I was
ordered to choose half-a-dozen dresses.  I hated the business, I
begged leave to defer it:  no--it should be gone through with now.
By dint of entreaties expressed in energetic whispers, I reduced the
half-dozen to two:  these however, he vowed he would select himself.
With anxiety I watched his eye rove over the gay stores:  he fixed
on a rich silk of the most brilliant amethyst dye, and a superb pink
satin.  I told him in a new series of whispers, that he might as
well buy me a gold gown and a silver bonnet at once:  I should
certainly never venture to wear his choice.  With infinite
difficulty, for he was stubborn as a stone, I persuaded him to make
an exchange in favour of a sober black satin and pearl-grey silk.
"It might pass for the present," he said; "but he would yet see me
glittering like a parterre."

Glad was I to get him out of the silk warehouse, and then out of a
jewellers shop:  the more he bought me, the more my cheek burned
with a sense of annoyance and degradation.  As we re-entered the
carriage, and I sat back feverish and fagged, I remembered what, in
the hurry of events, dark and bright, I had wholly forgotten--the
letter of my uncle, John Eyre, to Mrs. Reed:  his intention to adopt
me and make me his legatee.  "It would, indeed, be a relief," I
thought, "if I had ever so small an independency; I never can bear
being dressed like a doll by Mr. Rochester, or sitting like a second
Danae with the golden shower falling daily round me.  I will write
to Madeira the moment I get home, and tell my uncle John I am going
to be married, and to whom:  if I had but a prospect of one day
bringing Mr. Rochester an accession of fortune, I could better
endure to be kept by him now."  And somewhat relieved by this idea
(which I failed not to execute that day), I ventured once more to
meet my master's and lover's eye, which most pertinaciously sought
mine, though I averted both face and gaze.  He smiled; and I thought
his smile was such as a sultan might, in a blissful and fond moment,
bestow on a slave his gold and gems had enriched:  I crushed his
hand, which was ever hunting mine, vigorously, and thrust it back to
him red with the passionate pressure.

"You need not look in that way," I said; "if you do, I'll wear
nothing but my old Lowood frocks to the end of the chapter.  I'll be
married in this lilac gingham:  you may make a dressing-gown for
yourself out of the pearl-grey silk, and an infinite series of
waistcoats out of the black satin."

He chuckled; he rubbed his hands.  "Oh, it is rich to see and hear
her?" he exclaimed.  "Is she original?  Is she piquant?  I would not
exchange this one little English girl for the Grand Turk's whole
seraglio, gazelle-eyes, houri forms, and all!"

The Eastern allusion bit me again.  "I'll not stand you an inch in
the stead of a seraglio," I said; "so don't consider me an
equivalent for one.  If you have a fancy for anything in that line,
away with you, sir, to the bazaars of Stamboul without delay, and
lay out in extensive slave-purchases some of that spare cash you
seem at a loss to spend satisfactorily here."

"And what will you do, Janet, while I am bargaining for so many tons
of flesh and such an assortment of black eyes?"

"I'll be preparing myself to go out as a missionary to preach
liberty to them that are enslaved--your harem inmates amongst the
rest.  I'll get admitted there, and I'll stir up mutiny; and you,
three-tailed bashaw as you are, sir, shall in a trice find yourself
fettered amongst our hands:  nor will I, for one, consent to cut
your bonds till you have signed a charter, the most liberal that
despot ever yet conferred."

"I would consent to be at your mercy, Jane."

"I would have no mercy, Mr. Rochester, if you supplicated for it
with an eye like that.  While you looked so, I should be certain
that whatever charter you might grant under coercion, your first
act, when released, would be to violate its conditions."

"Why, Jane, what would you have?  I fear you will compel me to go
through a private marriage ceremony, besides that performed at the
altar.  You will stipulate, I see, for peculiar terms--what will
they be?"

"I only want an easy mind, sir; not crushed by crowded obligations.
Do you remember what you said of Celine Varens?--of the diamonds,
the cashmeres you gave her?  I will not be your English Celine
Varens.  I shall continue to act as Adele's governess; by that I
shall earn my board and lodging, and thirty pounds a year besides.
I'll furnish my own wardrobe out of that money, and you shall give
me nothing but--"

"Well, but what?"

"Your regard; and if I give you mine in return, that debt will be
quit."

"Well, for cool native impudence and pure innate pride, you haven't
your equal," said he.  We were now approaching Thornfield.  "Will it
please you to dine with me to-day?" he asked, as we re-entered the
gates.

"No, thank you, sir."

"And what for, 'no, thank you?' if one may inquire."

"I never have dined with you, sir:  and I see no reason why I should
now:  till--"

"Till what?  You delight in half-phrases."

"Till I can't help it."

"Do you suppose I eat like an ogre or a ghoul, that you dread being
the companion of my repast?"

"I have formed no supposition on the subject, sir; but I want to go
on as usual for another month."

"You will give up your governessing slavery at once."

"Indeed, begging your pardon, sir, I shall not.  I shall just go on
with it as usual.  I shall keep out of your way all day, as I have
been accustomed to do:  you may send for me in the evening, when you
feel disposed to see me, and I'll come then; but at no other time."

"I want a smoke, Jane, or a pinch of snuff, to comfort me under all
this, 'pour me donner une contenance,' as Adele would say; and
unfortunately I have neither my cigar-case, nor my snuff-box.  But
listen--whisper.  It is your time now, little tyrant, but it will be
mine presently; and when once I have fairly seized you, to have and
to hold, I'll just--figuratively speaking--attach you to a chain
like this" (touching his watch-guard).  "Yes, bonny wee thing, I'll
wear you in my bosom, lest my jewel I should tyne."

He said this as he helped me to alight from the carriage, and while
he afterwards lifted out Adele, I entered the house, and made good
my retreat upstairs.

He duly summoned me to his presence in the evening.  I had prepared
an occupation for him; for I was determined not to spend the whole
time in a tete-e-tete conversation.  I remembered his fine voice; I
knew he liked to sing--good singers generally do.  I was no vocalist
myself, and, in his fastidious judgment, no musician, either; but I
delighted in listening when the performance was good.  No sooner had
twilight, that hour of romance, began to lower her blue and starry
banner over the lattice, than I rose, opened the piano, and
entreated him, for the love of heaven, to give me a song.  He said I
was a capricious witch, and that he would rather sing another time;
but I averred that no time was like the present.

"Did I like his voice?" he asked.

"Very much."  I was not fond of pampering that susceptible vanity of
his; but for once, and from motives of expediency, I would e'en
soothe and stimulate it.

"Then, Jane, you must play the accompaniment."

"Very well, sir, I will try."

I did try, but was presently swept off the stool and denominated "a
little bungler."  Being pushed unceremoniously to one side--which
was precisely what I wished--he usurped my place, and proceeded to
accompany himself:  for he could play as well as sing.  I hied me to
the window-recess.  And while I sat there and looked out on the
still trees and dim lawn, to a sweet air was sung in mellow tones
the following strain:-


"The truest love that ever heart
Felt at its kindled core,
Did through each vein, in quickened start,
The tide of being pour.

Her coming was my hope each day,
Her parting was my pain;
The chance that did her steps delay
Was ice in every vein.

I dreamed it would be nameless bliss,
As I loved, loved to be;
And to this object did I press
As blind as eagerly.

But wide as pathless was the space
That lay our lives between,
And dangerous as the foamy race
Of ocean-surges green.

And haunted as a robber-path
Through wilderness or wood;
For Might and Right, and Woe and Wrath,
Between our spirits stood.

I dangers dared; I hindrance scorned;
I omens did defy:
Whatever menaced, harassed, warned,
I passed impetuous by.

On sped my rainbow, fast as light;
I flew as in a dream;
For glorious rose upon my sight
That child of Shower and Gleam.

Still bright on clouds of suffering dim
Shines that soft, solemn joy;
Nor care I now, how dense and grim
Disasters gather nigh.

I care not in this moment sweet,
Though all I have rushed o'er
Should come on pinion, strong and fleet,
Proclaiming vengeance sore:

Though haughty Hate should strike me down,
Right, bar approach to me,
And grinding Might, with furious frown,
Swear endless enmity.

My love has placed her little hand
With noble faith in mine,
And vowed that wedlock's sacred band
Our nature shall entwine.

My love has sworn, with sealing kiss,
With me to live--to die;
I have at last my nameless bliss.
As I love--loved am I!"


He rose and came towards me, and I saw his face all kindled, and his
full falcon-eye flashing, and tenderness and passion in every
lineament.  I quailed momentarily--then I rallied.  Soft scene,
daring demonstration, I would not have; and I stood in peril of
both:  a weapon of defence must be prepared--I whetted my tongue:
as he reached me, I asked with asperity, "whom he was going to marry
now?"

"That was a strange question to be put by his darling Jane."

"Indeed!  I considered it a very natural and necessary one:  he had
talked of his future wife dying with him.  What did he mean by such
a pagan idea?  I had no intention of dying with him--he might depend
on that."

"Oh, all he longed, all he prayed for, was that I might live with
him!  Death was not for such as I."

"Indeed it was:  I had as good a right to die when my time came as
he had:  but I should bide that time, and not be hurried away in a
suttee."

"Would I forgive him for the selfish idea, and prove my pardon by a
reconciling kiss?"

"No:  I would rather be excused."

Here I heard myself apostrophised as a "hard little thing;" and it
was added, "any other woman would have been melted to marrow at
hearing such stanzas crooned in her praise."

I assured him I was naturally hard--very flinty, and that he would
often find me so; and that, moreover, I was determined to show him
divers rugged points in my character before the ensuing four weeks
elapsed:  he should know fully what sort of a bargain he had made,
while there was yet time to rescind it.

"Would I be quiet and talk rationally?"

"I would be quiet if he liked, and as to talking rationally, I
flattered myself I was doing that now."

He fretted, pished, and pshawed.  "Very good," I thought; "you may
fume and fidget as you please:  but this is the best plan to pursue
with you, I am certain.  I like you more than I can say; but I'll
not sink into a bathos of sentiment:  and with this needle of
repartee I'll keep you from the edge of the gulf too; and, moreover,
maintain by its pungent aid that distance between you and myself
most conducive to our real mutual advantage."

From less to more, I worked him up to considerable irritation; then,
after he had retired, in dudgeon, quite to the other end of the
room, I got up, and saying, "I wish you good-night, sir," in my
natural and wonted respectful manner, I slipped out by the side-door
and got away.

The system thus entered on, I pursued during the whole season of
probation; and with the best success.  He was kept, to be sure,
rather cross and crusty; but on the whole I could see he was
excellently entertained, and that a lamb-like submission and turtle-
dove sensibility, while fostering his despotism more, would have
pleased his judgment, satisfied his common-sense, and even suited
his taste less.

In other people's presence I was, as formerly, deferential and
quiet; any other line of conduct being uncalled for:  it was only in
the evening conferences I thus thwarted and afflicted him.  He
continued to send for me punctually the moment the clock struck
seven; though when I appeared before him now, he had no such honeyed
terms as "love" and "darling" on his lips:  the best words at my
service were "provoking puppet," "malicious elf," "sprite,"
"changeling," &c.  For caresses, too, I now got grimaces; for a
pressure of the hand, a pinch on the arm; for a kiss on the cheek, a
severe tweak of the ear.  It was all right:  at present I decidedly
preferred these fierce favours to anything more tender.  Mrs.
Fairfax, I saw, approved me:  her anxiety on my account vanished;
therefore I was certain I did well.  Meantime, Mr. Rochester
affirmed I was wearing him to skin and bone, and threatened awful
vengeance for my present conduct at some period fast coming.  I
laughed in my sleeve at his menaces.  "I can keep you in reasonable
check now," I reflected; "and I don't doubt to be able to do it
hereafter:  if one expedient loses its virtue, another must be
devised."

Yet after all my task was not an easy one; often I would rather have
pleased than teased him.  My future husband was becoming to me my
whole world; and more than the world:  almost my hope of heaven.  He
stood between me and every thought of religion, as an eclipse
intervenes between man and the broad sun.  I could not, in those
days, see God for His creature:  of whom I had made an idol.


Charlotte Bronte