John received the news, I don't know: he never
answered
the
letter in which I communicated it: yet six months after he wrote to me,
without, however, mentioning Mr.
letter in which I communicated it: yet six months after he wrote to me,
without, however, mentioning Mr.
Jane Eyre- An Autobiography by Charlotte Brontë
here I reach the root of the matter.
He wanted you to marry him?
"
"He asked me to marry him. "
"That is a fiction--an impudent invention to vex me. "
"I beg your pardon, it is the literal truth: he asked me more than once,
and was as stiff about urging his point as ever you could be. "
"Miss Eyre, I repeat it, you can leave me. How often am I to say the
same thing? Why do you remain pertinaciously perched on my knee, when I
have given you notice to quit? "
"Because I am comfortable there. "
"No, Jane, you are not comfortable there, because your heart is not with
me: it is with this cousin--this St. John. Oh, till this moment, I
thought my little Jane was all mine! I had a belief she loved me even
when she left me: that was an atom of sweet in much bitter. Long as we
have been parted, hot tears as I have wept over our separation, I never
thought that while I was mourning her, she was loving another! But it is
useless grieving. Jane, leave me: go and marry Rivers. "
"Shake me off, then, sir,--push me away, for I'll not leave you of my own
accord. "
"Jane, I ever like your tone of voice: it still renews hope, it sounds so
truthful. When I hear it, it carries me back a year. I forget that you
have formed a new tie. But I am not a fool--go--"
"Where must I go, sir? "
"Your own way--with the husband you have chosen. "
"Who is that? "
"You know--this St. John Rivers. "
"He is not my husband, nor ever will be. He does not love me: I do not
love him. He loves (as he _can_ love, and that is not as you love) a
beautiful young lady called Rosamond. He wanted to marry me only because
he thought I should make a suitable missionary's wife, which she would
not have done. He is good and great, but severe; and, for me, cold as an
iceberg. He is not like you, sir: I am not happy at his side, nor near
him, nor with him. He has no indulgence for me--no fondness. He sees
nothing attractive in me; not even youth--only a few useful mental
points. --Then I must leave you, sir, to go to him? "
I shuddered involuntarily, and clung instinctively closer to my blind but
beloved master. He smiled.
"What, Jane! Is this true? Is such really the state of matters between
you and Rivers? "
"Absolutely, sir! Oh, you need not be jealous! I wanted to tease you a
little to make you less sad: I thought anger would be better than grief.
But if you wish me to love you, could you but see how much I _do_ love
you, you would be proud and content. All my heart is yours, sir: it
belongs to you; and with you it would remain, were fate to exile the rest
of me from your presence for ever. "
Again, as he kissed me, painful thoughts darkened his aspect.
"My seared vision! My crippled strength! " he murmured regretfully.
I caressed, in order to soothe him. I knew of what he was thinking, and
wanted to speak for him, but dared not. As he turned aside his face a
minute, I saw a tear slide from under the sealed eyelid, and trickle down
the manly cheek. My heart swelled.
"I am no better than the old lightning-struck chestnut-tree in Thornfield
orchard," he remarked ere long. "And what right would that ruin have to
bid a budding woodbine cover its decay with freshness? "
"You are no ruin, sir--no lightning-struck tree: you are green and
vigorous. Plants will grow about your roots, whether you ask them or
not, because they take delight in your bountiful shadow; and as they grow
they will lean towards you, and wind round you, because your strength
offers them so safe a prop. "
Again he smiled: I gave him comfort.
"You speak of friends, Jane? " he asked.
"Yes, of friends," I answered rather hesitatingly: for I knew I meant
more than friends, but could not tell what other word to employ. He
helped me.
"Ah! Jane. But I want a wife. "
"Do you, sir? "
"Yes: is it news to you? "
"Of course: you said nothing about it before. "
"Is it unwelcome news? "
"That depends on circumstances, sir--on your choice. "
"Which you shall make for me, Jane. I will abide by your decision. "
"Choose then, sir--_her who loves you best_. "
"I will at least choose--_her I love best_. Jane, will you marry me? "
"Yes, sir. "
"A poor blind man, whom you will have to lead about by the hand? "
"Yes, sir. "
"A crippled man, twenty years older than you, whom you will have to wait
on? "
"Yes, sir. "
"Truly, Jane? "
"Most truly, sir. "
"Oh! my darling! God bless you and reward you! "
"Mr. Rochester, if ever I did a good deed in my life--if ever I thought a
good thought--if ever I prayed a sincere and blameless prayer--if ever I
wished a righteous wish,--I am rewarded now. To be your wife is, for me,
to be as happy as I can be on earth. "
"Because you delight in sacrifice. "
"Sacrifice! What do I sacrifice? Famine for food, expectation for
content. To be privileged to put my arms round what I value--to press my
lips to what I love--to repose on what I trust: is that to make a
sacrifice? If so, then certainly I delight in sacrifice. "
"And to bear with my infirmities, Jane: to overlook my deficiencies. "
"Which are none, sir, to me. I love you better now, when I can really be
useful to you, than I did in your state of proud independence, when you
disdained every part but that of the giver and protector. "
"Hitherto I have hated to be helped--to be led: henceforth, I feel I
shall hate it no more. I did not like to put my hand into a hireling's,
but it is pleasant to feel it circled by Jane's little fingers. I
preferred utter loneliness to the constant attendance of servants; but
Jane's soft ministry will be a perpetual joy. Jane suits me: do I suit
her? "
"To the finest fibre of my nature, sir. "
"The case being so, we have nothing in the world to wait for: we must be
married instantly. "
He looked and spoke with eagerness: his old impetuosity was rising.
"We must become one flesh without any delay, Jane: there is but the
licence to get--then we marry. "
"Mr. Rochester, I have just discovered the sun is far declined from its
meridian, and Pilot is actually gone home to his dinner. Let me look at
your watch. "
"Fasten it into your girdle, Janet, and keep it henceforward: I have no
use for it. "
"It is nearly four o'clock in the afternoon, sir. Don't you feel
hungry? "
"The third day from this must be our wedding-day, Jane. Never mind fine
clothes and jewels, now: all that is not worth a fillip. "
"The sun has dried up all the rain-drops, sir. The breeze is still: it
is quite hot. "
"Do you know, Jane, I have your little pearl necklace at this moment
fastened round my bronze scrag under my cravat? I have worn it since the
day I lost my only treasure, as a memento of her. "
"We will go home through the wood: that will be the shadiest way. "
He pursued his own thoughts without heeding me.
"Jane! you think me, I daresay, an irreligious dog: but my heart swells
with gratitude to the beneficent God of this earth just now. He sees not
as man sees, but far clearer: judges not as man judges, but far more
wisely. I did wrong: I would have sullied my innocent flower--breathed
guilt on its purity: the Omnipotent snatched it from me. I, in my stiff-
necked rebellion, almost cursed the dispensation: instead of bending to
the decree, I defied it. Divine justice pursued its course; disasters
came thick on me: I was forced to pass through the valley of the shadow
of death. _His_ chastisements are mighty; and one smote me which has
humbled me for ever. You know I was proud of my strength: but what is it
now, when I must give it over to foreign guidance, as a child does its
weakness? Of late, Jane--only--only of late--I began to see and
acknowledge the hand of God in my doom. I began to experience remorse,
repentance; the wish for reconcilement to my Maker. I began sometimes to
pray: very brief prayers they were, but very sincere.
"Some days since: nay, I can number them--four; it was last Monday night,
a singular mood came over me: one in which grief replaced frenzy--sorrow,
sullenness. I had long had the impression that since I could nowhere
find you, you must be dead. Late that night--perhaps it might be between
eleven and twelve o'clock--ere I retired to my dreary rest, I supplicated
God, that, if it seemed good to Him, I might soon be taken from this
life, and admitted to that world to come, where there was still hope of
rejoining Jane.
"I was in my own room, and sitting by the window, which was open: it
soothed me to feel the balmy night-air; though I could see no stars and
only by a vague, luminous haze, knew the presence of a moon. I longed
for thee, Janet! Oh, I longed for thee both with soul and flesh! I
asked of God, at once in anguish and humility, if I had not been long
enough desolate, afflicted, tormented; and might not soon taste bliss and
peace once more. That I merited all I endured, I acknowledged--that I
could scarcely endure more, I pleaded; and the alpha and omega of my
heart's wishes broke involuntarily from my lips in the words--'Jane!
Jane! Jane! '"
"Did you speak these words aloud? "
"I did, Jane. If any listener had heard me, he would have thought me
mad: I pronounced them with such frantic energy. "
"And it was last Monday night, somewhere near midnight? "
"Yes; but the time is of no consequence: what followed is the strange
point. You will think me superstitious,--some superstition I have in my
blood, and always had: nevertheless, this is true--true at least it is
that I heard what I now relate.
"As I exclaimed 'Jane! Jane! Jane! ' a voice--I cannot tell whence the
voice came, but I know whose voice it was--replied, 'I am coming: wait
for me;' and a moment after, went whispering on the wind the words--'Where
are you? '
"I'll tell you, if I can, the idea, the picture these words opened to my
mind: yet it is difficult to express what I want to express. Ferndean is
buried, as you see, in a heavy wood, where sound falls dull, and dies
unreverberating. 'Where are you? ' seemed spoken amongst mountains; for I
heard a hill-sent echo repeat the words. Cooler and fresher at the
moment the gale seemed to visit my brow: I could have deemed that in some
wild, lone scene, I and Jane were meeting. In spirit, I believe we must
have met. You no doubt were, at that hour, in unconscious sleep, Jane:
perhaps your soul wandered from its cell to comfort mine; for those were
your accents--as certain as I live--they were yours! "
Reader, it was on Monday night--near midnight--that I too had received
the mysterious summons: those were the very words by which I replied to
it. I listened to Mr. Rochester's narrative, but made no disclosure in
return. The coincidence struck me as too awful and inexplicable to be
communicated or discussed. If I told anything, my tale would be such as
must necessarily make a profound impression on the mind of my hearer: and
that mind, yet from its sufferings too prone to gloom, needed not the
deeper shade of the supernatural. I kept these things then, and pondered
them in my heart.
"You cannot now wonder," continued my master, "that when you rose upon me
so unexpectedly last night, I had difficulty in believing you any other
than a mere voice and vision, something that would melt to silence and
annihilation, as the midnight whisper and mountain echo had melted
before. Now, I thank God! I know it to be otherwise. Yes, I thank
God! "
He put me off his knee, rose, and reverently lifting his hat from his
brow, and bending his sightless eyes to the earth, he stood in mute
devotion. Only the last words of the worship were audible.
"I thank my Maker, that, in the midst of judgment, he has remembered
mercy. I humbly entreat my Redeemer to give me strength to lead
henceforth a purer life than I have done hitherto! "
Then he stretched his hand out to be led. I took that dear hand, held it
a moment to my lips, then let it pass round my shoulder: being so much
lower of stature than he, I served both for his prop and guide. We
entered the wood, and wended homeward.
CHAPTER XXXVIII--CONCLUSION
Reader, I married him. A quiet wedding we had: he and I, the parson and
clerk, were alone present. When we got back from church, I went into the
kitchen of the manor-house, where Mary was cooking the dinner and John
cleaning the knives, and I said--
"Mary, I have been married to Mr. Rochester this morning. " The
housekeeper and her husband were both of that decent phlegmatic order of
people, to whom one may at any time safely communicate a remarkable piece
of news without incurring the danger of having one's ears pierced by some
shrill ejaculation, and subsequently stunned by a torrent of wordy
wonderment. Mary did look up, and she did stare at me: the ladle with
which she was basting a pair of chickens roasting at the fire, did for
some three minutes hang suspended in air; and for the same space of time
John's knives also had rest from the polishing process: but Mary, bending
again over the roast, said only--
"Have you, Miss? Well, for sure! "
A short time after she pursued--"I seed you go out with the master, but I
didn't know you were gone to church to be wed;" and she basted away.
John, when I turned to him, was grinning from ear to ear.
"I telled Mary how it would be," he said: "I knew what Mr. Edward" (John
was an old servant, and had known his master when he was the cadet of the
house, therefore, he often gave him his Christian name)--"I knew what Mr.
Edward would do; and I was certain he would not wait long neither: and
he's done right, for aught I know. I wish you joy, Miss! " and he
politely pulled his forelock.
"Thank you, John. Mr. Rochester told me to give you and Mary this. " I
put into his hand a five-pound note. Without waiting to hear more, I
left the kitchen. In passing the door of that sanctum some time after, I
caught the words--
"She'll happen do better for him nor ony o't' grand ladies. " And again,
"If she ben't one o' th' handsomest, she's noan faal and varry
good-natured; and i' his een she's fair beautiful, onybody may see that. "
I wrote to Moor House and to Cambridge immediately, to say what I had
done: fully explaining also why I had thus acted. Diana and Mary
approved the step unreservedly. Diana announced that she would just give
me time to get over the honeymoon, and then she would come and see me.
"She had better not wait till then, Jane," said Mr. Rochester, when I
read her letter to him; "if she does, she will be too late, for our
honeymoon will shine our life long: its beams will only fade over your
grave or mine. "
How St.
John received the news, I don't know: he never answered the
letter in which I communicated it: yet six months after he wrote to me,
without, however, mentioning Mr. Rochester's name or alluding to my
marriage. His letter was then calm, and, though very serious, kind. He
has maintained a regular, though not frequent, correspondence ever since:
he hopes I am happy, and trusts I am not of those who live without God in
the world, and only mind earthly things.
You have not quite forgotten little Adele, have you, reader? I had not;
I soon asked and obtained leave of Mr. Rochester, to go and see her at
the school where he had placed her. Her frantic joy at beholding me
again moved me much. She looked pale and thin: she said she was not
happy. I found the rules of the establishment were too strict, its
course of study too severe for a child of her age: I took her home with
me. I meant to become her governess once more, but I soon found this
impracticable; my time and cares were now required by another--my husband
needed them all. So I sought out a school conducted on a more indulgent
system, and near enough to permit of my visiting her often, and bringing
her home sometimes. I took care she should never want for anything that
could contribute to her comfort: she soon settled in her new abode,
became very happy there, and made fair progress in her studies. As she
grew up, a sound English education corrected in a great measure her
French defects; and when she left school, I found in her a pleasing and
obliging companion: docile, good-tempered, and well-principled. By her
grateful attention to me and mine, she has long since well repaid any
little kindness I ever had it in my power to offer her.
My tale draws to its close: one word respecting my experience of married
life, and one brief glance at the fortunes of those whose names have most
frequently recurred in this narrative, and I have done.
I have now been married ten years. I know what it is to live entirely
for and with what I love best on earth. I hold myself supremely
blest--blest beyond what language can express; because I am my husband's
life as fully as he is mine. No woman was ever nearer to her mate than I
am: ever more absolutely bone of his bone and flesh of his flesh. I know
no weariness of my Edward's society: he knows none of mine, any more than
we each do of the pulsation of the heart that beats in our separate
bosoms; consequently, we are ever together. To be together is for us to
be at once as free as in solitude, as gay as in company. We talk, I
believe, all day long: to talk to each other is but a more animated and
an audible thinking. All my confidence is bestowed on him, all his
confidence is devoted to me; we are precisely suited in character--perfect
concord is the result.
Mr. Rochester continued blind the first two years of our union; perhaps
it was that circumstance that drew us so very near--that knit us so very
close: for I was then his vision, as I am still his right hand.
Literally, I was (what he often called me) the apple of his eye. He saw
nature--he saw books through me; and never did I weary of gazing for his
behalf, and of putting into words the effect of field, tree, town, river,
cloud, sunbeam--of the landscape before us; of the weather round us--and
impressing by sound on his ear what light could no longer stamp on his
eye. Never did I weary of reading to him; never did I weary of
conducting him where he wished to go: of doing for him what he wished to
be done. And there was a pleasure in my services, most full, most
exquisite, even though sad--because he claimed these services without
painful shame or damping humiliation. He loved me so truly, that he knew
no reluctance in profiting by my attendance: he felt I loved him so
fondly, that to yield that attendance was to indulge my sweetest wishes.
One morning at the end of the two years, as I was writing a letter to his
dictation, he came and bent over me, and said--"Jane, have you a
glittering ornament round your neck? "
I had a gold watch-chain: I answered "Yes. "
"And have you a pale blue dress on? "
{And have you a pale blue dress on? : p435. jpg}
I had. He informed me then, that for some time he had fancied the
obscurity clouding one eye was becoming less dense; and that now he was
sure of it.
He and I went up to London. He had the advice of an eminent oculist; and
he eventually recovered the sight of that one eye. He cannot now see
very distinctly: he cannot read or write much; but he can find his way
without being led by the hand: the sky is no longer a blank to him--the
earth no longer a void. When his first-born was put into his arms, he
could see that the boy had inherited his own eyes, as they once
were--large, brilliant, and black. On that occasion, he again, with a
full heart, acknowledged that God had tempered judgment with mercy.
My Edward and I, then, are happy: and the more so, because those we most
love are happy likewise. Diana and Mary Rivers are both married:
alternately, once every year, they come to see us, and we go to see them.
Diana's husband is a captain in the navy, a gallant officer and a good
man. Mary's is a clergyman, a college friend of her brother's, and, from
his attainments and principles, worthy of the connection. Both Captain
Fitzjames and Mr. Wharton love their wives, and are loved by them.
As to St. John Rivers, he left England: he went to India. He entered on
the path he had marked for himself; he pursues it still. A more
resolute, indefatigable pioneer never wrought amidst rocks and dangers.
Firm, faithful, and devoted, full of energy, and zeal, and truth, he
labours for his race; he clears their painful way to improvement; he hews
down like a giant the prejudices of creed and caste that encumber it. He
may be stern; he may be exacting; he may be ambitious yet; but his is the
sternness of the warrior Greatheart, who guards his pilgrim convoy from
the onslaught of Apollyon. His is the exaction of the apostle, who
speaks but for Christ, when he says--"Whosoever will come after me, let
him deny himself, and take up his cross and follow me. " His is the
ambition of the high master-spirit, which aims to fill a place in the
first rank of those who are redeemed from the earth--who stand without
fault before the throne of God, who share the last mighty victories of
the Lamb, who are called, and chosen, and faithful.
St. John is unmarried: he never will marry now. Himself has hitherto
sufficed to the toil, and the toil draws near its close: his glorious sun
hastens to its setting. The last letter I received from him drew from my
eyes human tears, and yet filled my heart with divine joy: he anticipated
his sure reward, his incorruptible crown. I know that a stranger's hand
will write to me next, to say that the good and faithful servant has been
called at length into the joy of his Lord. And why weep for this? No
fear of death will darken St. John's last hour: his mind will be
unclouded, his heart will be undaunted, his hope will be sure, his faith
steadfast. His own words are a pledge of this--
"My Master," he says, "has forewarned me. Daily He announces more
distinctly,--'Surely I come quickly! ' and hourly I more eagerly
respond,--'Amen; even so come, Lord Jesus! '"
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1. F. 2.
"He asked me to marry him. "
"That is a fiction--an impudent invention to vex me. "
"I beg your pardon, it is the literal truth: he asked me more than once,
and was as stiff about urging his point as ever you could be. "
"Miss Eyre, I repeat it, you can leave me. How often am I to say the
same thing? Why do you remain pertinaciously perched on my knee, when I
have given you notice to quit? "
"Because I am comfortable there. "
"No, Jane, you are not comfortable there, because your heart is not with
me: it is with this cousin--this St. John. Oh, till this moment, I
thought my little Jane was all mine! I had a belief she loved me even
when she left me: that was an atom of sweet in much bitter. Long as we
have been parted, hot tears as I have wept over our separation, I never
thought that while I was mourning her, she was loving another! But it is
useless grieving. Jane, leave me: go and marry Rivers. "
"Shake me off, then, sir,--push me away, for I'll not leave you of my own
accord. "
"Jane, I ever like your tone of voice: it still renews hope, it sounds so
truthful. When I hear it, it carries me back a year. I forget that you
have formed a new tie. But I am not a fool--go--"
"Where must I go, sir? "
"Your own way--with the husband you have chosen. "
"Who is that? "
"You know--this St. John Rivers. "
"He is not my husband, nor ever will be. He does not love me: I do not
love him. He loves (as he _can_ love, and that is not as you love) a
beautiful young lady called Rosamond. He wanted to marry me only because
he thought I should make a suitable missionary's wife, which she would
not have done. He is good and great, but severe; and, for me, cold as an
iceberg. He is not like you, sir: I am not happy at his side, nor near
him, nor with him. He has no indulgence for me--no fondness. He sees
nothing attractive in me; not even youth--only a few useful mental
points. --Then I must leave you, sir, to go to him? "
I shuddered involuntarily, and clung instinctively closer to my blind but
beloved master. He smiled.
"What, Jane! Is this true? Is such really the state of matters between
you and Rivers? "
"Absolutely, sir! Oh, you need not be jealous! I wanted to tease you a
little to make you less sad: I thought anger would be better than grief.
But if you wish me to love you, could you but see how much I _do_ love
you, you would be proud and content. All my heart is yours, sir: it
belongs to you; and with you it would remain, were fate to exile the rest
of me from your presence for ever. "
Again, as he kissed me, painful thoughts darkened his aspect.
"My seared vision! My crippled strength! " he murmured regretfully.
I caressed, in order to soothe him. I knew of what he was thinking, and
wanted to speak for him, but dared not. As he turned aside his face a
minute, I saw a tear slide from under the sealed eyelid, and trickle down
the manly cheek. My heart swelled.
"I am no better than the old lightning-struck chestnut-tree in Thornfield
orchard," he remarked ere long. "And what right would that ruin have to
bid a budding woodbine cover its decay with freshness? "
"You are no ruin, sir--no lightning-struck tree: you are green and
vigorous. Plants will grow about your roots, whether you ask them or
not, because they take delight in your bountiful shadow; and as they grow
they will lean towards you, and wind round you, because your strength
offers them so safe a prop. "
Again he smiled: I gave him comfort.
"You speak of friends, Jane? " he asked.
"Yes, of friends," I answered rather hesitatingly: for I knew I meant
more than friends, but could not tell what other word to employ. He
helped me.
"Ah! Jane. But I want a wife. "
"Do you, sir? "
"Yes: is it news to you? "
"Of course: you said nothing about it before. "
"Is it unwelcome news? "
"That depends on circumstances, sir--on your choice. "
"Which you shall make for me, Jane. I will abide by your decision. "
"Choose then, sir--_her who loves you best_. "
"I will at least choose--_her I love best_. Jane, will you marry me? "
"Yes, sir. "
"A poor blind man, whom you will have to lead about by the hand? "
"Yes, sir. "
"A crippled man, twenty years older than you, whom you will have to wait
on? "
"Yes, sir. "
"Truly, Jane? "
"Most truly, sir. "
"Oh! my darling! God bless you and reward you! "
"Mr. Rochester, if ever I did a good deed in my life--if ever I thought a
good thought--if ever I prayed a sincere and blameless prayer--if ever I
wished a righteous wish,--I am rewarded now. To be your wife is, for me,
to be as happy as I can be on earth. "
"Because you delight in sacrifice. "
"Sacrifice! What do I sacrifice? Famine for food, expectation for
content. To be privileged to put my arms round what I value--to press my
lips to what I love--to repose on what I trust: is that to make a
sacrifice? If so, then certainly I delight in sacrifice. "
"And to bear with my infirmities, Jane: to overlook my deficiencies. "
"Which are none, sir, to me. I love you better now, when I can really be
useful to you, than I did in your state of proud independence, when you
disdained every part but that of the giver and protector. "
"Hitherto I have hated to be helped--to be led: henceforth, I feel I
shall hate it no more. I did not like to put my hand into a hireling's,
but it is pleasant to feel it circled by Jane's little fingers. I
preferred utter loneliness to the constant attendance of servants; but
Jane's soft ministry will be a perpetual joy. Jane suits me: do I suit
her? "
"To the finest fibre of my nature, sir. "
"The case being so, we have nothing in the world to wait for: we must be
married instantly. "
He looked and spoke with eagerness: his old impetuosity was rising.
"We must become one flesh without any delay, Jane: there is but the
licence to get--then we marry. "
"Mr. Rochester, I have just discovered the sun is far declined from its
meridian, and Pilot is actually gone home to his dinner. Let me look at
your watch. "
"Fasten it into your girdle, Janet, and keep it henceforward: I have no
use for it. "
"It is nearly four o'clock in the afternoon, sir. Don't you feel
hungry? "
"The third day from this must be our wedding-day, Jane. Never mind fine
clothes and jewels, now: all that is not worth a fillip. "
"The sun has dried up all the rain-drops, sir. The breeze is still: it
is quite hot. "
"Do you know, Jane, I have your little pearl necklace at this moment
fastened round my bronze scrag under my cravat? I have worn it since the
day I lost my only treasure, as a memento of her. "
"We will go home through the wood: that will be the shadiest way. "
He pursued his own thoughts without heeding me.
"Jane! you think me, I daresay, an irreligious dog: but my heart swells
with gratitude to the beneficent God of this earth just now. He sees not
as man sees, but far clearer: judges not as man judges, but far more
wisely. I did wrong: I would have sullied my innocent flower--breathed
guilt on its purity: the Omnipotent snatched it from me. I, in my stiff-
necked rebellion, almost cursed the dispensation: instead of bending to
the decree, I defied it. Divine justice pursued its course; disasters
came thick on me: I was forced to pass through the valley of the shadow
of death. _His_ chastisements are mighty; and one smote me which has
humbled me for ever. You know I was proud of my strength: but what is it
now, when I must give it over to foreign guidance, as a child does its
weakness? Of late, Jane--only--only of late--I began to see and
acknowledge the hand of God in my doom. I began to experience remorse,
repentance; the wish for reconcilement to my Maker. I began sometimes to
pray: very brief prayers they were, but very sincere.
"Some days since: nay, I can number them--four; it was last Monday night,
a singular mood came over me: one in which grief replaced frenzy--sorrow,
sullenness. I had long had the impression that since I could nowhere
find you, you must be dead. Late that night--perhaps it might be between
eleven and twelve o'clock--ere I retired to my dreary rest, I supplicated
God, that, if it seemed good to Him, I might soon be taken from this
life, and admitted to that world to come, where there was still hope of
rejoining Jane.
"I was in my own room, and sitting by the window, which was open: it
soothed me to feel the balmy night-air; though I could see no stars and
only by a vague, luminous haze, knew the presence of a moon. I longed
for thee, Janet! Oh, I longed for thee both with soul and flesh! I
asked of God, at once in anguish and humility, if I had not been long
enough desolate, afflicted, tormented; and might not soon taste bliss and
peace once more. That I merited all I endured, I acknowledged--that I
could scarcely endure more, I pleaded; and the alpha and omega of my
heart's wishes broke involuntarily from my lips in the words--'Jane!
Jane! Jane! '"
"Did you speak these words aloud? "
"I did, Jane. If any listener had heard me, he would have thought me
mad: I pronounced them with such frantic energy. "
"And it was last Monday night, somewhere near midnight? "
"Yes; but the time is of no consequence: what followed is the strange
point. You will think me superstitious,--some superstition I have in my
blood, and always had: nevertheless, this is true--true at least it is
that I heard what I now relate.
"As I exclaimed 'Jane! Jane! Jane! ' a voice--I cannot tell whence the
voice came, but I know whose voice it was--replied, 'I am coming: wait
for me;' and a moment after, went whispering on the wind the words--'Where
are you? '
"I'll tell you, if I can, the idea, the picture these words opened to my
mind: yet it is difficult to express what I want to express. Ferndean is
buried, as you see, in a heavy wood, where sound falls dull, and dies
unreverberating. 'Where are you? ' seemed spoken amongst mountains; for I
heard a hill-sent echo repeat the words. Cooler and fresher at the
moment the gale seemed to visit my brow: I could have deemed that in some
wild, lone scene, I and Jane were meeting. In spirit, I believe we must
have met. You no doubt were, at that hour, in unconscious sleep, Jane:
perhaps your soul wandered from its cell to comfort mine; for those were
your accents--as certain as I live--they were yours! "
Reader, it was on Monday night--near midnight--that I too had received
the mysterious summons: those were the very words by which I replied to
it. I listened to Mr. Rochester's narrative, but made no disclosure in
return. The coincidence struck me as too awful and inexplicable to be
communicated or discussed. If I told anything, my tale would be such as
must necessarily make a profound impression on the mind of my hearer: and
that mind, yet from its sufferings too prone to gloom, needed not the
deeper shade of the supernatural. I kept these things then, and pondered
them in my heart.
"You cannot now wonder," continued my master, "that when you rose upon me
so unexpectedly last night, I had difficulty in believing you any other
than a mere voice and vision, something that would melt to silence and
annihilation, as the midnight whisper and mountain echo had melted
before. Now, I thank God! I know it to be otherwise. Yes, I thank
God! "
He put me off his knee, rose, and reverently lifting his hat from his
brow, and bending his sightless eyes to the earth, he stood in mute
devotion. Only the last words of the worship were audible.
"I thank my Maker, that, in the midst of judgment, he has remembered
mercy. I humbly entreat my Redeemer to give me strength to lead
henceforth a purer life than I have done hitherto! "
Then he stretched his hand out to be led. I took that dear hand, held it
a moment to my lips, then let it pass round my shoulder: being so much
lower of stature than he, I served both for his prop and guide. We
entered the wood, and wended homeward.
CHAPTER XXXVIII--CONCLUSION
Reader, I married him. A quiet wedding we had: he and I, the parson and
clerk, were alone present. When we got back from church, I went into the
kitchen of the manor-house, where Mary was cooking the dinner and John
cleaning the knives, and I said--
"Mary, I have been married to Mr. Rochester this morning. " The
housekeeper and her husband were both of that decent phlegmatic order of
people, to whom one may at any time safely communicate a remarkable piece
of news without incurring the danger of having one's ears pierced by some
shrill ejaculation, and subsequently stunned by a torrent of wordy
wonderment. Mary did look up, and she did stare at me: the ladle with
which she was basting a pair of chickens roasting at the fire, did for
some three minutes hang suspended in air; and for the same space of time
John's knives also had rest from the polishing process: but Mary, bending
again over the roast, said only--
"Have you, Miss? Well, for sure! "
A short time after she pursued--"I seed you go out with the master, but I
didn't know you were gone to church to be wed;" and she basted away.
John, when I turned to him, was grinning from ear to ear.
"I telled Mary how it would be," he said: "I knew what Mr. Edward" (John
was an old servant, and had known his master when he was the cadet of the
house, therefore, he often gave him his Christian name)--"I knew what Mr.
Edward would do; and I was certain he would not wait long neither: and
he's done right, for aught I know. I wish you joy, Miss! " and he
politely pulled his forelock.
"Thank you, John. Mr. Rochester told me to give you and Mary this. " I
put into his hand a five-pound note. Without waiting to hear more, I
left the kitchen. In passing the door of that sanctum some time after, I
caught the words--
"She'll happen do better for him nor ony o't' grand ladies. " And again,
"If she ben't one o' th' handsomest, she's noan faal and varry
good-natured; and i' his een she's fair beautiful, onybody may see that. "
I wrote to Moor House and to Cambridge immediately, to say what I had
done: fully explaining also why I had thus acted. Diana and Mary
approved the step unreservedly. Diana announced that she would just give
me time to get over the honeymoon, and then she would come and see me.
"She had better not wait till then, Jane," said Mr. Rochester, when I
read her letter to him; "if she does, she will be too late, for our
honeymoon will shine our life long: its beams will only fade over your
grave or mine. "
How St.
John received the news, I don't know: he never answered the
letter in which I communicated it: yet six months after he wrote to me,
without, however, mentioning Mr. Rochester's name or alluding to my
marriage. His letter was then calm, and, though very serious, kind. He
has maintained a regular, though not frequent, correspondence ever since:
he hopes I am happy, and trusts I am not of those who live without God in
the world, and only mind earthly things.
You have not quite forgotten little Adele, have you, reader? I had not;
I soon asked and obtained leave of Mr. Rochester, to go and see her at
the school where he had placed her. Her frantic joy at beholding me
again moved me much. She looked pale and thin: she said she was not
happy. I found the rules of the establishment were too strict, its
course of study too severe for a child of her age: I took her home with
me. I meant to become her governess once more, but I soon found this
impracticable; my time and cares were now required by another--my husband
needed them all. So I sought out a school conducted on a more indulgent
system, and near enough to permit of my visiting her often, and bringing
her home sometimes. I took care she should never want for anything that
could contribute to her comfort: she soon settled in her new abode,
became very happy there, and made fair progress in her studies. As she
grew up, a sound English education corrected in a great measure her
French defects; and when she left school, I found in her a pleasing and
obliging companion: docile, good-tempered, and well-principled. By her
grateful attention to me and mine, she has long since well repaid any
little kindness I ever had it in my power to offer her.
My tale draws to its close: one word respecting my experience of married
life, and one brief glance at the fortunes of those whose names have most
frequently recurred in this narrative, and I have done.
I have now been married ten years. I know what it is to live entirely
for and with what I love best on earth. I hold myself supremely
blest--blest beyond what language can express; because I am my husband's
life as fully as he is mine. No woman was ever nearer to her mate than I
am: ever more absolutely bone of his bone and flesh of his flesh. I know
no weariness of my Edward's society: he knows none of mine, any more than
we each do of the pulsation of the heart that beats in our separate
bosoms; consequently, we are ever together. To be together is for us to
be at once as free as in solitude, as gay as in company. We talk, I
believe, all day long: to talk to each other is but a more animated and
an audible thinking. All my confidence is bestowed on him, all his
confidence is devoted to me; we are precisely suited in character--perfect
concord is the result.
Mr. Rochester continued blind the first two years of our union; perhaps
it was that circumstance that drew us so very near--that knit us so very
close: for I was then his vision, as I am still his right hand.
Literally, I was (what he often called me) the apple of his eye. He saw
nature--he saw books through me; and never did I weary of gazing for his
behalf, and of putting into words the effect of field, tree, town, river,
cloud, sunbeam--of the landscape before us; of the weather round us--and
impressing by sound on his ear what light could no longer stamp on his
eye. Never did I weary of reading to him; never did I weary of
conducting him where he wished to go: of doing for him what he wished to
be done. And there was a pleasure in my services, most full, most
exquisite, even though sad--because he claimed these services without
painful shame or damping humiliation. He loved me so truly, that he knew
no reluctance in profiting by my attendance: he felt I loved him so
fondly, that to yield that attendance was to indulge my sweetest wishes.
One morning at the end of the two years, as I was writing a letter to his
dictation, he came and bent over me, and said--"Jane, have you a
glittering ornament round your neck? "
I had a gold watch-chain: I answered "Yes. "
"And have you a pale blue dress on? "
{And have you a pale blue dress on? : p435. jpg}
I had. He informed me then, that for some time he had fancied the
obscurity clouding one eye was becoming less dense; and that now he was
sure of it.
He and I went up to London. He had the advice of an eminent oculist; and
he eventually recovered the sight of that one eye. He cannot now see
very distinctly: he cannot read or write much; but he can find his way
without being led by the hand: the sky is no longer a blank to him--the
earth no longer a void. When his first-born was put into his arms, he
could see that the boy had inherited his own eyes, as they once
were--large, brilliant, and black. On that occasion, he again, with a
full heart, acknowledged that God had tempered judgment with mercy.
My Edward and I, then, are happy: and the more so, because those we most
love are happy likewise. Diana and Mary Rivers are both married:
alternately, once every year, they come to see us, and we go to see them.
Diana's husband is a captain in the navy, a gallant officer and a good
man. Mary's is a clergyman, a college friend of her brother's, and, from
his attainments and principles, worthy of the connection. Both Captain
Fitzjames and Mr. Wharton love their wives, and are loved by them.
As to St. John Rivers, he left England: he went to India. He entered on
the path he had marked for himself; he pursues it still. A more
resolute, indefatigable pioneer never wrought amidst rocks and dangers.
Firm, faithful, and devoted, full of energy, and zeal, and truth, he
labours for his race; he clears their painful way to improvement; he hews
down like a giant the prejudices of creed and caste that encumber it. He
may be stern; he may be exacting; he may be ambitious yet; but his is the
sternness of the warrior Greatheart, who guards his pilgrim convoy from
the onslaught of Apollyon. His is the exaction of the apostle, who
speaks but for Christ, when he says--"Whosoever will come after me, let
him deny himself, and take up his cross and follow me. " His is the
ambition of the high master-spirit, which aims to fill a place in the
first rank of those who are redeemed from the earth--who stand without
fault before the throne of God, who share the last mighty victories of
the Lamb, who are called, and chosen, and faithful.
St. John is unmarried: he never will marry now. Himself has hitherto
sufficed to the toil, and the toil draws near its close: his glorious sun
hastens to its setting. The last letter I received from him drew from my
eyes human tears, and yet filled my heart with divine joy: he anticipated
his sure reward, his incorruptible crown. I know that a stranger's hand
will write to me next, to say that the good and faithful servant has been
called at length into the joy of his Lord. And why weep for this? No
fear of death will darken St. John's last hour: his mind will be
unclouded, his heart will be undaunted, his hope will be sure, his faith
steadfast. His own words are a pledge of this--
"My Master," he says, "has forewarned me. Daily He announces more
distinctly,--'Surely I come quickly! ' and hourly I more eagerly
respond,--'Amen; even so come, Lord Jesus! '"
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