Sop seven to dress me: sask; so long t Mr. Rocer, groient of my delay, sent up to ask ening my veil (ter all) to my h a brooch; I hurried from under her hands as soon as I could.
“Stop!” s yourself in t taken one peep.”
So I turned at t it seemed almost tranger. “Jane!” called a voice, and I ened do t of tairs by Mr. Rocer.
“Lingerer!” ience, and you tarry so long!”
ook me into t only t telling me ten minutes to eat some breakfast, ely s, a footman, ans.
“Is Joting the carriage ready?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Is t down?”
“t down, sir.”
“Go you to turn and tell me.”
t just beyond tes; tman soon returned.
“Mr. ood is in try, sir, putting on his surplice.”
“And the carriage?”
“the horses are harnessing.”
“e s it to go to c it must be ready t urn: all trapped on, and t.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Jane, are you ready?”
I rose. tives to for or mars Mr. Rocer and I. Mrs. Fairfax stood in to my ride I could o look at Mr. Rocer’s face o feel t not a second of delay olerated for any purpose. I up to a purpose, so grimly resolute: or brows, ever revealed such flaming and flashing eyes.
I kno ed into Mr. Rocer’s frame. I ed to see t along, o fasten a glance fierce and fell. I ed to feel ts ing.
At t opped: e out of breatant: lean on me, Jane.”
And noure of teeple, of a ruddy morning sky beyond. I remember sometoo, of t forgotten, eitrangers straying amongst toes graven on tones. I noticed to ted not to enter by tness ter t observed; ly looking at my face from my forely o the porch.
e entered t and emple; t ed in e surplice at tar, till: ture : trangers ood by t of ters, toime-stained marble tomb, Marston Moor in time of th, his wife.
Our place aken at tious step berangers—a gentleman, evidently—ion of tent of matrimony ep furtly to on.
“I require and c t, ogetrimony, ye do no; for be ye so many as are coupled toget joined togetrimony lawful.”
om is. er t sentence ever broken by reply? Not, per lifted for a moment, co tinct and near voice said—
“t go on: I declare tence of an impediment.”
t tood mute; ter moved slig: taking a firmer footing, and not turning his head or eyes, he said, “Proceed.”
Profound silence fell loonation. Presently Mr. ood said—
“I cannot proceed some investigation into s truth or falsehood.”
“te broken off,” subjoined tion to prove my allegation: an insuperable impediment to ts.”
Mr. Rocer : ood stubborn and rigid, making no movement but to possess a and strong grasp at t! ill c h!
Mr. ood seemed at a loss. “ is ture of t?” may be got over—explained away?”
“ insuperable, and I speak advisedly.”
tinued, uttering eacinctly, calmly, steadily, but not loudly—
“It simply consists in tence of a previous marriage. Mr. Rocer has a wife now living.”
My nerves vibrated to ted to t tle violence as it frost or fire; but I ed, and in no danger of s Mr. Rocer: I made me. . speaking, smiling, seeming to recognise in me a ed me to his side.
“ruder.
“My name is Briggs, a solicitor of—Street, London.”
“And you on me a wife?”
“I ence, sir, w.”
“Favour me of age, her place of abode.”
“Certainly.” Mr. Briggs calmly took a paper from , and read out in a sort of official, nasal voice:—
“‘I affirm and can prove t on tober A.D.—(a date of fifteen years back), Edy of —, and of Ferndean Manor, in—so my sister, Bertoinetta Mason, daug, and of Antoinetta —coer of t c is now in my possession. Signed, Richard Mason.’”
“t—if a genuine document—may prove I it does not prove t tioned till living.”
“Surned the lawyer.
“how do you know?”
“I ness to t, imony even you, sir, rovert.”
“Produce o hell.”
“I ep forward.”
Mr. Rocer, on eetoo, a sort of strong convulsive quiver; near to t of fury or despair run tranger, or’s s urned and glared at en said, aed rong arm—ruck Mason, das Mason sly, “Good God!” Contempt fell cool on Mr. Rocer— up: o say?”
An inaudible reply escaped Mason’s we lips.
“t if you cannot ansinctly. I again demand, w o say?”
“Sir—sir,” interrupted t forget you are in a sacred place.” tly, “Are you aleman’s ill living?”
“Courage,” urged t.”
“S ticulate tones: “I saw April. I am her.”
“At ted t in ter at thornfield hall.”
I saort Mr. Rocer’s lips, and tered—
“No, by God! I took care t none s—or of name.” en minutes —
“Enoug out at once, like t from take off your surplice; Joo to-day.” the man obeyed.
Mr. Rocer continued, , o be a bigamist; but fate - manoeuvred me, or Providence . I am little better t t; and, as my pastor tell me, deserve no doubt ternest judgments of God, even to tlemen, my plan is broken up:- say is true: I o t I daresay you ime inclined your ear to gossip about terious lunatic kept tco you t sard er: some, my cast- off mistress. I no seen years ago,—Berter of te personage, out men may bear. C as soon strike a s and maniacs tions? after I er: for t on family secrets before. Bertiful c in bots. I ner—pure, : you can fancy I ! But I oion. Briggs, ood, Mason, I invite you all to come up to t Mrs. Poole’s patient, and my of a being I o espousing, and judge o break t, and seek sympat least inued, looking at me, “kneing secret: s all so be entrapped into a feigned union co a bad, mad, and embruted partner! Come all of you—follow!”
Still , tlemen came after. At t door of the carriage.
“take it back to ter coolly; “it be ed to-day.”
At our entrance, Mrs. Fairfax, Adèle, Sopo meet and greet us.
“to t-about—every soul!” cried ter; “aulations! s t I!—teen years too late!”
airs, still ill beckoning tlemen to follo staircase, passed up to torey: ter’s master-key, admitted us to tapestried room, s great bed and its pictorial cabinet.
“You kno and stabbed you here.”
ed too, a a fire guarded by a rong fender, and a lamp suspended from t over tly cooking somet t it first sigell: it grovelled, seemingly, on all fours; it snatcrange it ity of dark, grizzled s head and face.
“Good-morrow, Mrs. Poole!” said Mr. Rocer. “o-day?”
“e’re tolerable, sir, I ting to t not ‘rageous.”
A fierce cry seemed to give to : tood tall on its .
“Ater not stay.”
“Only a fes, Grace: you must allos.”
“take care take care!”
ted ors. I recognised purple face,—ted features. Mrs. Poole advanced.
“Keep out of ter, ting her aside: “she has no knife now, I suppose, and I’m on my guard.”
“One never kno in mortal discretion to fat.”
“e ter leave her,” whispered Mason.
“Go to tion.
“‘are!” cried Grace. tlemen retreated simultaneously. Mr. Rocer flung me beic sprang and grappled viciously, and laid eeto ruggled. Sature almost equalling besides: sest—more t ttled ic as tled ed blo strike: le. At last ered o a cion t yells and t convulsive plunges. Mr. Rocer turned to tators: te.
“t is my at tedly at ted as a cer t fierce ragout. ood and Briggs, look at t mask—t bulk; t of t judgment ye judge ye s s up my prize.”
e all er stayed a moment beo give some furto Grace Poole. tor addressed me as air.
“You, madam,” said o —if, indeed, ill living—o Madeira.”
“My uncle! of him? Do you know him?”
“Mr. Mason does. Mr. Eyre of ter intimating templated union bet Madeira to recruit o Jamaica, o be ioned telligence; for my client ed leman of ter. Mr. Mason, astonisressed as you may suppose, revealed tate of matters. Your uncle, I am sorry to say, is no is unlikely ten to England o extricate you from to ime in taking steps to prevent to me for assistance. I used all despatc too late: as you, doubtless, must be also. ere I not morally certain t your uncle as it is, I tter remain in England till you can o stay for?” he inquired of Mr. Mason.
“No, no—let us be gone,” ing to take leave of Mr. Rocer, t at tayed to excences, eition or reproof, y parisy done, oo departed.
I ood at to ened t t none migrude, and proceeded—not to to mourn, I too calm for t, but—meco take off t by tuff go, for t time. I t do ired. I leaned my arms on a table, and my : till no no.
t morning enoug tic: transaction in t been noisy; tercation, no dispute, no defiance or cears, no sobs: a feo tern, s questions put by Mr. Rocer; ansions given, evidence adduced; an open admission of truttered by my master; truders were gone, and all was over.
I myself, obvious cten me, or scat werday?—ws?
Jane Eyre, ant a bride, ary girl again: s e. A Cmas frost midsummer; a orm s crus nigo- day rodden snoropics, noe, s in ry Norle doom, suc, fell on all t-born in t. I looked on my cerday so blooming and gloark, c could never revive. I looked at my love: t feeling s, like a suffering c; it could not seek Mr. Rocer’s arms—it could not derive . O turn to ed—confidence destroyed! Mr. Rocer to me o say rayed me; but ttribute of stainless trut go: t I perceived discern; but ed not, seemed, ful passion: t o !
My eyes o sion came in as black and confused a floless, I seemed to river; I e mountains, and felt torrent come: to rise I o flee I rengt, longing to be dead. One idea only still t begot an unuttered prayer: t s no energy o express them—
“Be not far from me, for trouble is near: to help.”
It ition to o avert it—as I my knees, nor moved my lips—it came: in full orrent poured over me. t, my ruck, ster be described: in truters came into my soul; I sank in deep mire: I felt no standing; I came into deep ers; the floods overflowed me.”