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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 e; 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; Ja! 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 ing: 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 fort 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 municated 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 38—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 municate 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 e 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 municated 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 Adèle; 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 bee her governess once more; but I soon found this impracticable; my time and cares y 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 fort: 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 panion: 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 is 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 pany。 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
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