No More Learning

His last words
were balm: they seemed to imply that it imported something to him whether
I forgot him or not. And he had spoken of Thornfield as my home--would
that it were my home!

He did not leave the stile, and I hardly liked to ask to go by. I
inquired soon if he had not been to London.

"Yes; I suppose you found that out by second-sight. "

"Mrs. Fairfax told me in a letter. "

"And did she inform you what I went to do? "

"Oh, yes, sir! Everybody knew your errand. "

"You must see the carriage, Jane, and tell me if you don't think it will
suit Mrs. Rochester exactly; and whether she won't look like Queen
Boadicea, leaning back against those purple cushions. I wish, Jane, I
were a trifle better adapted to match with her externally. Tell me now,
fairy as you are--can't you give me a charm, or a philter, or something
of that sort, to make me a handsome man? "

"It would be past the power of magic, sir;" and, in thought, I added, "A
loving eye is all the charm needed: to such you are handsome enough; or
rather your sternness has a power beyond beauty. "

Mr. Rochester had sometimes read my unspoken thoughts with an acumen to
me incomprehensible: in the present instance he took no notice of my
abrupt vocal response; but he smiled at me with a certain smile he had of
his own, and which he used but on rare occasions. He seemed to think it
too good for common purposes: it was the real sunshine of feeling--he
shed it over me now.

"Pass, Janet," said he, making room for me to cross the stile: "go up
home, and stay your weary little wandering feet at a friend's threshold. "

All I had now to do was to obey him in silence: no need for me to
colloquise further. I got over the stile without a word, and meant to
leave him calmly. An impulse held me fast--a force turned me round. I
said--or something in me said for me, and in spite of me--

"Thank you, Mr. Rochester, for your great kindness. I am strangely glad
to get back again to you: and wherever you are is my home--my only home. "

I walked on so fast that even he could hardly have overtaken me had he
tried. Little Adele was half wild with delight when she saw me. Mrs.
Fairfax received me with her usual plain friendliness. Leah smiled, and
even Sophie bid me "bon soir" with glee. This was very pleasant; there
is no happiness like that of being loved by your fellow-creatures, and
feeling that your presence is an addition to their comfort.

I that evening shut my eyes resolutely against the future: I stopped my
ears against the voice that kept warning me of near separation and coming
grief. When tea was over and Mrs. Fairfax had taken her knitting, and I
had assumed a low seat near her, and Adele, kneeling on the carpet, had
nestled close up to me, and a sense of mutual affection seemed to
surround us with a ring of golden peace, I uttered a silent prayer that
we might not be parted far or soon; but when, as we thus sat, Mr.
Rochester entered, unannounced, and looking at us, seemed to take
pleasure in the spectacle of a group so amicable--when he said he
supposed the old lady was all right now that she had got her adopted
daughter back again, and added that he saw Adele was "prete a croquer sa
petite maman Anglaise"--I half ventured to hope that he would, even after
his marriage, keep us together somewhere under the shelter of his
protection, and not quite exiled from the sunshine of his presence.

A fortnight of dubious calm succeeded my return to Thornfield Hall.
Nothing was said of the master's marriage, and I saw no preparation going
on for such an event. Almost every day I asked Mrs. Fairfax if she had
yet heard anything decided: her answer was always in the negative. Once
she said she had actually put the question to Mr. Rochester as to when he
was going to bring his bride home; but he had answered her only by a joke
and one of his queer looks, and she could not tell what to make of him.

One thing specially surprised me, and that was, there were no journeyings
backward and forward, no visits to Ingram Park: to be sure it was twenty
miles off, on the borders of another county; but what was that distance
to an ardent lover? To so practised and indefatigable a horseman as Mr.
Rochester, it would be but a morning's ride. I began to cherish hopes I
had no right to conceive: that the match was broken off; that rumour had
been mistaken; that one or both parties had changed their minds. I used
to look at my master's face to see if it were sad or fierce; but I could
not remember the time when it had been so uniformly clear of clouds or
evil feelings. If, in the moments I and my pupil spent with him, I
lacked spirits and sank into inevitable dejection, he became even gay.
Never had he called me more frequently to his presence; never been kinder
to me when there--and, alas! never had I loved him so well.




CHAPTER XXIII


A splendid Midsummer shone over England: skies so pure, suns so radiant
as were then seen in long succession, seldom favour even singly, our wave-
girt land. It was as if a band of Italian days had come from the South,
like a flock of glorious passenger birds, and lighted to rest them on the
cliffs of Albion. The hay was all got in; the fields round Thornfield
were green and shorn; the roads white and baked; the trees were in their
dark prime; hedge and wood, full-leaved and deeply tinted, contrasted
well with the sunny hue of the cleared meadows between.

On Midsummer-eve, Adele, weary with gathering wild strawberries in Hay
Lane half the day, had gone to bed with the sun. I watched her drop
asleep, and when I left her, I sought the garden.

It was now the sweetest hour of the twenty-four:--"Day its fervid fires
had wasted," and dew fell cool on panting plain and scorched summit.
Where the sun had gone down in simple state--pure of the pomp of
clouds--spread a solemn purple, burning with the light of red jewel and
furnace flame at one point, on one hill-peak, and extending high and
wide, soft and still softer, over half heaven. The east had its own
charm or fine deep blue, and its own modest gem, a casino and solitary
star: soon it would boast the moon; but she was yet beneath the horizon.

I walked a while on the pavement; but a subtle, well-known scent--that of
a cigar--stole from some window; I saw the library casement open a
handbreadth; I knew I might be watched thence; so I went apart into the
orchard. No nook in the grounds more sheltered and more Eden-like; it
was full of trees, it bloomed with flowers: a very high wall shut it out
from the court, on one side; on the other, a beech avenue screened it
from the lawn. At the bottom was a sunk fence; its sole separation from
lonely fields: a winding walk, bordered with laurels and terminating in a
giant horse-chestnut, circled at the base by a seat, led down to the
fence. Here one could wander unseen. While such honey-dew fell, such
silence reigned, such gloaming gathered, I felt as if I could haunt such
shade for ever; but in threading the flower and fruit parterres at the
upper part of the enclosure, enticed there by the light the now rising
moon cast on this more open quarter, my step is stayed--not by sound, not
by sight, but once more by a warning fragrance.

Sweet-briar and southernwood, jasmine, pink, and rose have long been
yielding their evening sacrifice of incense: this new scent is neither of
shrub nor flower; it is--I know it well--it is Mr. Rochester's cigar. I
look round and I listen. I see trees laden with ripening fruit. I hear
a nightingale warbling in a wood half a mile off; no moving form is
visible, no coming step audible; but that perfume increases: I must flee.
I make for the wicket leading to the shrubbery, and I see Mr. Rochester
entering. I step aside into the ivy recess; he will not stay long: he
will soon return whence he came, and if I sit still he will never see me.

But no--eventide is as pleasant to him as to me, and this antique garden
as attractive; and he strolls on, now lifting the gooseberry-tree
branches to look at the fruit, large as plums, with which they are laden;
now taking a ripe cherry from the wall; now stooping towards a knot of
flowers, either to inhale their fragrance or to admire the dew-beads on
their petals. A great moth goes humming by me; it alights on a plant at
Mr. Rochester's foot: he sees it, and bends to examine it.

"Now, he has his back towards me," thought I, "and he is occupied too;
perhaps, if I walk softly, I can slip away unnoticed. "

I trode on an edging of turf that the crackle of the pebbly gravel might
not betray me: he was standing among the beds at a yard or two distant
from where I had to pass; the moth apparently engaged him. "I shall get
by very well," I meditated. As I crossed his shadow, thrown long over
the garden by the moon, not yet risen high, he said quietly, without
turning--

"Jane, come and look at this fellow. "

I had made no noise: he had not eyes behind--could his shadow feel? I
started at first, and then I approached him.

"Look at his wings," said he, "he reminds me rather of a West Indian
insect; one does not often see so large and gay a night-rover in England;
there! he is flown. "

The moth roamed away. I was sheepishly retreating also; but Mr.
Rochester followed me, and when we reached the wicket, he said--

"Turn back: on so lovely a night it is a shame to sit in the house; and
surely no one can wish to go to bed while sunset is thus at meeting with
moonrise. "

It is one of my faults, that though my tongue is sometimes prompt enough
at an answer, there are times when it sadly fails me in framing an
excuse; and always the lapse occurs at some crisis, when a facile word or
plausible pretext is specially wanted to get me out of painful
embarrassment. I did not like to walk at this hour alone with Mr.
Rochester in the shadowy orchard; but I could not find a reason to allege
for leaving him. I followed with lagging step, and thoughts busily bent
on discovering a means of extrication; but he himself looked so composed
and so grave also, I became ashamed of feeling any confusion: the evil--if
evil existent or prospective there was--seemed to lie with me only; his
mind was unconscious and quiet.

"Jane," he recommenced, as we entered the laurel walk, and slowly strayed
down in the direction of the sunk fence and the horse-chestnut,
"Thornfield is a pleasant place in summer, is it not? "

"Yes, sir. "

"You must have become in some degree attached to the house,--you, who
have an eye for natural beauties, and a good deal of the organ of
Adhesiveness? "

"I am attached to it, indeed. "

"And though I don't comprehend how it is, I perceive you have acquired a
degree of regard for that foolish little child Adele, too; and even for
simple dame Fairfax? "

"Yes, sir; in different ways, I have an affection for both. "

"And would be sorry to part with them? "

"Yes. "

"Pity! " he said, and sighed and paused. "It is always the way of events
in this life," he continued presently: "no sooner have you got settled in
a pleasant resting-place, than a voice calls out to you to rise and move
on, for the hour of repose is expired. "

"Must I move on, sir? " I asked. "Must I leave Thornfield? "

"I believe you must, Jane. I am sorry, Janet, but I believe indeed you
must. "

This was a blow: but I did not let it prostrate me.

"Well, sir, I shall be ready when the order to march comes. "

"It is come now--I must give it to-night. "

"Then you _are_ going to be married, sir? "

"Ex-act-ly--pre-cise-ly: with your usual acuteness, you have hit the nail
straight on the head. "

"Soon, sir? "

"Very soon, my--that is, Miss Eyre: and you'll remember, Jane, the first
time I, or Rumour, plainly intimated to you that it was my intention to
put my old bachelor's neck into the sacred noose, to enter into the holy
estate of matrimony--to take Miss Ingram to my bosom, in short (she's an
extensive armful: but that's not to the point--one can't have too much of
such a very excellent thing as my beautiful Blanche): well, as I was
saying--listen to me, Jane! You're not turning your head to look after
more moths, are you? That was only a lady-clock, child, 'flying away
home. ' I wish to remind you that it was you who first said to me, with
that discretion I respect in you--with that foresight, prudence, and
humility which befit your responsible and dependent position--that in
case I married Miss Ingram, both you and little Adele had better trot
forthwith. I pass over the sort of slur conveyed in this suggestion on
the character of my beloved; indeed, when you are far away, Janet, I'll
try to forget it: I shall notice only its wisdom; which is such that I
have made it my law of action. Adele must go to school; and you, Miss
Eyre, must get a new situation. "

"Yes, sir, I will advertise immediately: and meantime, I suppose--" I was
going to say, "I suppose I may stay here, till I find another shelter to
betake myself to:" but I stopped, feeling it would not do to risk a long
sentence, for my voice was not quite under command.

"In about a month I hope to be a bridegroom," continued Mr. Rochester;
"and in the interim, I shall myself look out for employment and an asylum
for you. "

"Thank you, sir; I am sorry to give--"

"Oh, no need to apologise! I consider that when a dependent does her
duty as well as you have done yours, she has a sort of claim upon her
employer for any little assistance he can conveniently render her; indeed
I have already, through my future mother-in-law, heard of a place that I
think will suit: it is to undertake the education of the five daughters
of Mrs. Dionysius O'Gall of Bitternutt Lodge, Connaught, Ireland. You'll
like Ireland, I think: they're such warm-hearted people there, they say. "

"It is a long way off, sir. "

"No matter--a girl of your sense will not object to the voyage or the
distance. "

"Not the voyage, but the distance: and then the sea is a barrier--"

"From what, Jane? "

"From England and from Thornfield: and--"

"Well? "

"From _you_, sir. "

I said this almost involuntarily, and, with as little sanction of free
will, my tears gushed out. I did not cry so as to be heard, however; I
avoided sobbing. The thought of Mrs. O'Gall and Bitternutt Lodge struck
cold to my heart; and colder the thought of all the brine and foam,
destined, as it seemed, to rush between me and the master at whose side I
now walked, and coldest the remembrance of the wider ocean--wealth,
caste, custom intervened between me and what I naturally and inevitably
loved.

"It is a long way," I again said.

"It is, to be sure; and when you get to Bitternutt Lodge, Connaught,
Ireland, I shall never see you again, Jane: that's morally certain. I
never go over to Ireland, not having myself much of a fancy for the
country. We have been good friends, Jane; have we not? "

"Yes, sir. "

"And when friends are on the eve of separation, they like to spend the
little time that remains to them close to each other. Come! we'll talk
over the voyage and the parting quietly half-an-hour or so, while the
stars enter into their shining life up in heaven yonder: here is the
chestnut tree: here is the bench at its old roots. Come, we will sit
there in peace to-night, though we should never more be destined to sit
there together. " He seated me and himself.

"It is a long way to Ireland, Janet, and I am sorry to send my little
friend on such weary travels: but if I can't do better, how is it to be
helped? Are you anything akin to me, do you think, Jane? "

I could risk no sort of answer by this time: my heart was still.

"Because," he said, "I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to
you--especially when you are near me, as now: it is as if I had a string
somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a
similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your little
frame. And if that boisterous Channel, and two hundred miles or so of
land come broad between us, I am afraid that cord of communion will be
snapt; and then I've a nervous notion I should take to bleeding inwardly.
As for you,--you'd forget me. "

"That I _never_ should, sir: you know--" Impossible to proceed.

"Jane, do you hear that nightingale singing in the wood? Listen! "

In listening, I sobbed convulsively; for I could repress what I endured
no longer; I was obliged to yield, and I was shaken from head to foot
with acute distress. When I did speak, it was only to express an
impetuous wish that I had never been born, or never come to Thornfield.

"Because you are sorry to leave it? "

The vehemence of emotion, stirred by grief and love within me, was
claiming mastery, and struggling for full sway, and asserting a right to
predominate, to overcome, to live, rise, and reign at last: yes,--and to
speak.

"I grieve to leave Thornfield: I love Thornfield:--I love it, because I
have lived in it a full and delightful life,--momentarily at least. I
have not been trampled on. I have not been petrified. I have not been
buried with inferior minds, and excluded from every glimpse of communion
with what is bright and energetic and high. I have talked, face to face,
with what I reverence, with what I delight in,--with an original, a
vigorous, an expanded mind. I have known you, Mr. Rochester; and it
strikes me with terror and anguish to feel I absolutely must be torn from
you for ever. I see the necessity of departure; and it is like looking
on the necessity of death. "

"Where do you see the necessity? " he asked suddenly.

"Where? You, sir, have placed it before me. "

"In what shape? "

"In the shape of Miss Ingram; a noble and beautiful woman,--your bride. "

"My bride! What bride? I have no bride! "

"But you will have. "

"Yes;--I will! --I will! " He set his teeth.

"Then I must go:--you have said it yourself. "

"No: you must stay! I swear it--and the oath shall be kept. "

"I tell you I must go! " I retorted, roused to something like passion. "Do
you think I can stay to become nothing to you? Do you think I am an
automaton? --a machine without feelings? and can bear to have my morsel of
bread snatched from my lips, and my drop of living water dashed from my
cup? Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am
soulless and heartless? You think wrong! --I have as much soul as
you,--and full as much heart! And if God had gifted me with some beauty
and much wealth, I should have made it as hard for you to leave me, as it
is now for me to leave you. I am not talking to you now through the
medium of custom, conventionalities, nor even of mortal flesh;--it is my
spirit that addresses your spirit; just as if both had passed through the
grave, and we stood at God's feet, equal,--as we are! "

"As we are! " repeated Mr. Rochester--"so," he added, enclosing me in his
arms. Gathering me to his breast, pressing his lips on my lips: "so,
Jane! "

"Yes, so, sir," I rejoined: "and yet not so; for you are a married man--or
as good as a married man, and wed to one inferior to you--to one with
whom you have no sympathy--whom I do not believe you truly love; for I
have seen and heard you sneer at her. I would scorn such a union:
therefore I am better than you--let me go! "

"Where, Jane? To Ireland? "

"Yes--to Ireland. I have spoken my mind, and can go anywhere now.
"

"Jane, be still; don't struggle so, like a wild frantic bird that is
rending its own plumage in its desperation. "

"I am no bird; and no net ensnares me; I am a free human being with an
independent will, which I now exert to leave you. "

Another effort set me at liberty, and I stood erect before him.

"And your will shall decide your destiny," he said: "I offer you my hand,
my heart, and a share of all my possessions. "

"You play a farce, which I merely laugh at. "

"I ask you to pass through life at my side--to be my second self, and
best earthly companion. "

"For that fate you have already made your choice, and must abide by it. "

"Jane, be still a few moments: you are over-excited: I will be still
too. "

A waft of wind came sweeping down the laurel-walk, and trembled through
the boughs of the chestnut: it wandered away--away--to an indefinite
distance--it died. The nightingale's song was then the only voice of the
hour: in listening to it, I again wept. Mr. Rochester sat quiet, looking
at me gently and seriously. Some time passed before he spoke; he at last
said--

"Come to my side, Jane, and let us explain and understand one another. "

"I will never again come to your side: I am torn away now, and cannot
return. "

"But, Jane, I summon you as my wife: it is you only I intend to marry. "

I was silent: I thought he mocked me.

"Come, Jane--come hither. "

"Your bride stands between us. "

He rose, and with a stride reached me.

"My bride is here," he said, again drawing me to him, "because my equal
is here, and my likeness. Jane, will you marry me? "

Still I did not answer, and still I writhed myself from his grasp: for I
was still incredulous.

"Do you doubt me, Jane? "

"Entirely. "

"You have no faith in me? "

"Not a whit. "

"Am I a liar in your eyes? " he asked passionately. "Little sceptic, you
_shall_ be convinced. What love have I for Miss Ingram? None: and that
you know. What love has she for me? None: as I have taken pains to
prove: I caused a rumour to reach her that my fortune was not a third of
what was supposed, and after that I presented myself to see the result;
it was coldness both from her and her mother. I would not--I could
not--marry Miss Ingram. You--you strange, you almost unearthly thing! --I
love as my own flesh. You--poor and obscure, and small and plain as you
are--I entreat to accept me as a husband. "

"What, me! " I ejaculated, beginning in his earnestness--and especially in
his incivility--to credit his sincerity: "me who have not a friend in the
world but you--if you are my friend: not a shilling but what you have
given me? "

"You, Jane, I must have you for my own--entirely my own. Will you be
mine? Say yes, quickly. "

"Mr. Rochester, let me look at your face: turn to the moonlight. "

"Why? "

"Because I want to read your countenance--turn! "

"There! you will find it scarcely more legible than a crumpled, scratched
page. Read on: only make haste, for I suffer. "

His face was very much agitated and very much flushed, and there were
strong workings in the features, and strange gleams in the eyes.

"Oh, Jane, you torture me! " he exclaimed. "With that searching and yet
faithful and generous look, you torture me! "

"How can I do that? If you are true, and your offer real, my only
feelings to you must be gratitude and devotion--they cannot torture. "

"Gratitude! " he ejaculated; and added wildly--"Jane accept me quickly.
Say, Edward--give me my name--Edward--I will marry you. "

"Are you in earnest? Do you truly love me? Do you sincerely wish me to
be your wife? "

"I do; and if an oath is necessary to satisfy you, I swear it. "

"Then, sir, I will marry you. "

"Edward--my little wife! "

"Dear Edward! "

"Come to me--come to me entirely now," said he; and added, in his deepest
tone, speaking in my ear as his cheek was laid on mine, "Make my
happiness--I will make yours. "

"God pardon me! " he subjoined ere long; "and man meddle not with me: I
have her, and will hold her. "

"There is no one to meddle, sir. I have no kindred to interfere. "

"No--that is the best of it," he said. And if I had loved him less I
should have thought his accent and look of exultation savage; but,
sitting by him, roused from the nightmare of parting--called to the
paradise of union--I thought only of the bliss given me to drink in so
abundant a flow. Again and again he said, "Are you happy, Jane? " And
again and again I answered, "Yes. " After which he murmured, "It will
atone--it will atone. Have I not found her friendless, and cold, and
comfortless? Will I not guard, and cherish, and solace her? Is there
not love in my heart, and constancy in my resolves? It will expiate at
God's tribunal. I know my Maker sanctions what I do. For the world's
judgment--I wash my hands thereof. For man's opinion--I defy it. "

But what had befallen the night? The moon was not yet set, and we were
all in shadow: I could scarcely see my master's face, near as I was. And
what ailed the chestnut tree? it writhed and groaned; while wind roared
in the laurel walk, and came sweeping over us.

"We must go in," said Mr. Rochester: "the weather changes. I could have
sat with thee till morning, Jane. "

"And so," thought I, "could I with you. " I should have said so, perhaps,
but a livid, vivid spark leapt out of a cloud at which I was looking, and
there was a crack, a crash, and a close rattling peal; and I thought only
of hiding my dazzled eyes against Mr. Rochester's shoulder.

The rain rushed down. He hurried me up the walk, through the grounds,
and into the house; but we were quite wet before we could pass the
threshold. He was taking off my shawl in the hall, and shaking the water
out of my loosened hair, when Mrs. Fairfax emerged from her room. I did
not observe her at first, nor did Mr. Rochester. The lamp was lit. The
clock was on the stroke of twelve.

"Hasten to take off your wet things," said he; "and before you go, good-
night--good-night, my darling! "

He kissed me repeatedly. When I looked up, on leaving his arms, there
stood the widow, pale, grave, and amazed. I only smiled at her, and ran
upstairs. "Explanation will do for another time," thought I. Still,
when I reached my chamber, I felt a pang at the idea she should even
temporarily misconstrue what she had seen. But joy soon effaced every
other feeling; and loud as the wind blew, near and deep as the thunder
crashed, fierce and frequent as the lightning gleamed, cataract-like as
the rain fell during a storm of two hours' duration, I experienced no
fear and little awe. Mr. Rochester came thrice to my door in the course
of it, to ask if I was safe and tranquil: and that was comfort, that was
strength for anything.

Before I left my bed in the morning, little Adele came running in to tell
me that the great horse-chestnut at the bottom of the orchard had been
struck by lightning in the night, and half of it split away.




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?