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ere　anything　the　matter；　Ja；　that　you　e　to　meet　me　at　such　an　hour？　Is　there　anything　wrong？”
“No；　but　I　thought　you　would　never　e。　I　could　not　bear　to　wait　in　the　house　for　you；　especially　with　this　rain　and　wind。”
“Rain　and　wind；　indeed！　Yes；　you　are　dripping　like　a　mermaid；　pull　my　cloak　round　you：　but　I　think　you　are　feverish；　Jane：　both　your　cheek　and　hand　are　burning　hot。　I　ask　again；　is　there　anything　the　matter？
“Nothing　now；　I　am　neither　afraid　nor　unhappy。”
“Then　you　have　been　both？”
“Rather：　but　I’ll　tell　you　all　about　it　by…and…bye；　sir；　and　I　daresay　you　will　only　laugh　at　me　for　my　pains。”
“I’ll　laugh　at　you　heartily　when　to…morrow　is　past；　till　then　I　dare　not：　my　prize　is　not　certain。　This　is　you；　who　have　been　as　slippery　as　an　eel　this　last　month；　and　as　thorny　as　a　briar…rose？　I　could　not　lay　a　finger　anywhere　but　I　was　pricked；　and　now　I　seem　to　have　gathered　up　a　stray　lamb　in　my　arms。　You　wandered　out　of　the　fold　to　seek　your　shepherd；　did　you；　Jane？”
“I　wanted　you：　but　don’t　boast。　Here　we　are　at　Thornfield：　now　let　me　get　down。”
He　landed　me　on　the　pavement。　As　John　took　his　horse；　and　he　followed　me　into　the　hall；　he　told　me　to　make　haste　and　put　something　dry　on；　and　then　return　to　him　in　the　library；　and　he　stopped　me；　as　I　made　for　the　staircase；　to　extort　a　promise　that　I　would　not　be　long：　nor　was　I　long；　in　five　minutes　I　rejoined　him。　I　found　him　at　supper。
“Take　a　seat　and　bear　me　pany；　Jane：　please　God；　it　is　the　last　meal　but　one　you　will　eat　at　Thornfield　Hall　for　a　long　time。”
I　sat　down　near　him；　but　told　him　I　could　not　eat。　“Is　it　because　you　have　the　prospect　of　a　journey　before　you；　Jane？　Is　it　the　thoughts　of　going　to　London　that　takes　away　your　appetite？”
“I　cannot　see　my　prospects　clearly　to…night；　sir；　and　I　hardly　know　what　thoughts　I　have　in　my　head。　Everything　in　life　seems　unreal。”
“Except　me：　I　am　substantial　enough—touch　me。”
“You；　sir；　are　the　most　phantom…like　of　all：　you　are　a　mere　dream。”
He　held　out　his　hand；　laughing。　“Is　that　a　dream？”　said　he；　placing　it　close　to　my　eyes。　He　had　a　rounded；　muscular；　and　vigorous　hand；　as　well　as　a　long；　strong　arm。
“Yes；　though　I　touch　it；　it　is　a　dream；”　said　I；　as　I　put　it　down　from　before　my　face。　“Sir；　have　you　finished　supper？”
“Yes；　Jane。”
I　rang　the　bell　and　ordered　away　the　tray。　When　we　were　again　alone；　I　stirred　the　fire；　and　then　took　a　low　seat　at　my　master’s　knee。
“It　is　near　midnight；”　I　said。
“Yes：　but　remember；　Jane；　you　promised　to　wake　with　me　the　night　before　my　wedding。”
“I　did；　and　I　will　keep　my　promise；　for　an　hour　or　two　at　least：　I　have　no　wish　to　go　to　bed。”
“Are　all　your　arrangements　plete？”
“All；　sir。”
“And　on　my　part　likewise；”　he　returned；　“I　have　settled　everything；　and　we　shall　leave　Thornfield　to…morrow；　within　half…an…hour　after　our　return　from　church。”
“Very　well；　sir。”
“With　what　an　extraordinary　smile　you　uttered　that　word—‘very　well；’　Jane！　What　a　bright　spot　of　colour　you　have　on　each　cheek！　and　how　strangely　your　eyes　glitter！　Are　you　well？”
“I　believe　I　am。”
“Believe！　What　is　the　matter？　Tell　me　what　you　feel。”
“I　could　not；　sir：　no　words　could　tell　you　what　I　feel。　I　wish　this　present　hour　would　never　end：　who　knows　with　what　fate　the　next　may　e　charged？”
“This　is　hypochondria；　Jane。　You　have　been　over…excited；　or　over…　fatigued。”
“Do　you；　sir；　feel　calm　and　happy？”
“Calm？—no：　but　happy—to　the　heart’s　core。”
I　looked　up　at　him　to　read　the　signs　of　bliss　in　his　face：　it　was　ardent　and　flushed。
“Give　me　your　confidence；　Jane；”　he　said：　“relieve　your　mind　of　any　weight　that　oppresses　it；　by　imparting　it　to　me。　What　do　you　fear？—that　I　shall　not　prove　a　good　husband？”
“It　is　the　idea　farthest　from　my　thoughts。”
“Are　you　apprehensive　of　the　new　sphere　you　are　about　to　enter？—of　the　new　life　into　which　you　are　passing？”
“No。”
“You　puzzle　me；　Jane：　your　look　and　tone　of　sorrowful　audacity　perplex　and　pain　me。　I　want　an　explanation。”
“Then；　sir；　listen。　You　were　from　home　last　night？”
“I　was：　I　know　that；　and　you　hinted　a　while　ago　at　something　which　had　happened　in　my　absence：…　nothing；　probably；　of　consequence；　but；　in　short；　it　has　disturbed　you。　Let　me　hear　it。　Mrs。　Fairfax　has　said　something；　perhaps？　or　you　have　overheard　the　servants　talk？—　your　sensitive　self…respect　has　been　wounded？”
“No；　sir。”　It　struck　twelve—I　waited　till　the　time…piece　had　concluded　its　silver　chime；　and　the　clock　its　hoarse；　vibritting　stroke；　and　then　I　proceeded。
“All　day　yesterday　I　was　very　busy；　and　very　happy　in　my　ceaseless　bustle；　for　I　am　not；　as　you　seem　to　think；　troubled　by　any　haunting　fears　about　the　new　sphere；　et　cetera：　I　think　it　a　glorious　thing　to　have　the　hope　of　living　with　you；　because　I　love　you。　No；　sir；　don’t　caress　me　now—let　me　talk　undisturbed。　Yesterday　I　trusted　well　in　Providence；　and　believed　that　events　were　working　together　for　your　good　and　mine：　it　was　a　fine　day；　if　you　recollect—the　calmness　of　the　air　and　sky　forbade　apprehensions　respecting　your　safety　or　fort　on　your　journey。　I　walked　a　little　while　on　the　pavement　after　tea；　thinking　of　you；　and　I　beheld　you　in　imagination　so　near　me；　I　scarcely　missed　your　actual　presence。　I　thought　of　the　life　that　lay　before　me—your　life；　sir—an　existence　more　expansive　and　stirring　than　my　own：　as　much　more　so　as　the　depths　of　the　sea　to　which　the　brook　runs　are　than　the　shallows　of　its　own　strait　channel。　I　wondered　why　moralists　call　this　world　a　dreary　wilderness：　for　me　it　blossomed　like　a　rose。　Just　at　sunset；　the　air　turned　cold　and　the　sky　cloudy：　I　went　in；　Sophie　called　me　upstairs　to　look　at　my　wedding…dress；　which　they　had　just　brought；　and　under　it　in　the　box　I　found　your　present—the　veil　which；　in　your　princely　extravagance；　you　sent　for　from　London：　resolved；　I　suppose；　since　I　would　not　have　jewels；　to　cheat　me　into　accepting　something　as　costly。　I　smiled　as　I　unfolded　it；　and　devised　how　I　would　tease　you　about　your　aristocratic　tastes；　and　your　efforts　to　masque　your　plebeian　bride　in　the　attributes　of　a　peeress。　I　though　how　I　would　carry　dobroidered　blond　I　had　myself　prepared　as　a　covering　for　my　low…born　head；　and　ask　if　that　was　not　good　enough　for　a　woman　who　could　bring　her　husband　neither　fortune；　beauty；　nor　connections。　I　saw　plainly　how　you　would　look；　and　heard　your　impetuous　republican　answers；　and　your　haughty　disavowal　of　any　necessity　on　your　part　to　augment　your　wealth；　or　elevate　your　standing；　by　marrying　either　a　purse　or　a　coro。”
“How　well　you　read　me；　you　witch！”　interposed　Mr。　Rochester：　“but　what　did　you　find　in　the　veil　besides　its　embroidery？　Did　you　find　poison；　or　a　dagger；　that　you　look　so　mournful　now？”
“No；　no；　sir；　besides　the　delicacy　and　richness　of　the　fabric；　I　found　nothing　save　Fairfax　Rochester’s　pride；　and　that　did　not　scare　me；　because　I　am　used　to　the　sight　of　the　demon。　But；　sir；　as　it　grew　dark；　the　wind　rose：　it　blew　yesterday　evening；　not　as　it　blows　now—wild　and　high—but　‘with　a　sullen；　moaning　sound’　far　more　eerie。　I　wished　you　were　at　home。　I　came　into　this　room；　and　the　sight　of　the　empty　chair　and　fireless　hearth　chilled　me。　For　some　time　after　I　went　to　bed；　I　could　not　sleep—a　sense　of　anxious　excitement　distressed　me。　The　gale　still　rising；　seemed　to　my　ear　to　muffle　a　mournful　under…sound；　whether　in　the　house　or　abroad　I　could　not　at　first　tell；　but　it　recurred；　doubtful　yet　doleful　at　every　lull；　at　last　I　made　out　it　must　be　some　dog　howling　at　a　distance。　I　was　glad　when　it　ceased。　On　sleeping；　I　continued　in　dreams　the　idea　of　a　dark　and　gusty　night。　I　continued　also　the　wish　to　be　with　you；　and　experienced　a　strange；　regretful　consciousness　of　some　barrier　dividing　us。　During　all　my　first　sleep；　I　was　following　the　windings　of　an　unknown　road；　total　obscurity　environed　me；　rain　pelted　me；　I　was　burdened　with　the　charge　of　a　little　child：　a　very　small　creature；　too　young　and　feeble　to　walk；　and　which　shivered　in　my　cold　arms；　and　wailed　piteously　in　my　ear。　I　thought；　sir；　that　you　were　on　the　road　a　long　way　before　me；　and　I　strained　every　nerve　to　overtake　you；　and　made　effort　on　effort　to　utter　your　name　and　entreat　you　to　stop—　but　my　movements　were　fettered；　and　my　voice　still　died　away　inarticulate；　while　you；　I　felt；　withdrew　farther　and　farther　every　moment。”
“And　these　dreams　weigh　on　your　spirits　now；　Jane；　when　I　am　close　to　you？　Little　nervous　subject！　Forget　visionary　woe；　and　think　only　of　real　happiness！　You　say　you　love　me；　Ja：　yes—I　will　not　forget　that；　and　you　cannot　deny　it。　those　words　did　not　die　inarticulate　on　your　lips。　I　heard　them　clear　and　soft：　a　thought　too　solemn　perhaps；　but　sweet　as　music—‘I　think　it　is　a　glorious　thing　to　have　the　hope　of　living　with　you；　Edward；　because　I　love　you。’　Do　you　love　me；　Jane？—repeat　it。”
“I　do；　sir—I　do；　with　my　whole　heart。”
“Well；”　he　said；　after　some　minutes’　silence；　“it　is　strange；　but　that　sentence　has　perated　by　breast　painfully。　Why？　I　think　because　you　said　it　with　such　an　earnest；　religious　energy；　and　because　your　upward　gaze　at　me　now　is　the　very　sublime　of　faith；　truth；　and　devotion：　it　is　too　much　as　if　some　spirit　were　near　me。　Look　wicked；　Jane：　as　you　know　well　how　to　look：　coin　one　of　your　wild；　shy；　provoking　smiles；　tell　me　you　hate　me—tease　me；　vex　me；　do　anything　but　move　me：　I　would　rather　be　incensed　than　saddened。”
“I　will　tease　you　and　vex　you　to　your　heart’s　content；　when　I　have　finished　my　tale：　but　hear　me　to　the　end。”
“I　thought；　Jane；　you　had　told　me　all。　I　thought　I　had　found　the　source　of　your　melancholy　in　a　dream。”
I　shook　my　head。　“What！　is　there　more？　But　I　will　not　believe　it　to　be　anything　important。　I　warn　you　of　incredulity　beforehand。　Go　on。”
The　disquietude　of　his　air；　the　somewhat　apprehensive　impatience　of　his　manner；　surprised　me：　but　I　proceeded。
“I　dreamt　another　dream；　sir：　that　Thornfield　Hall　was　a　dreary　ruin；　the　retreat　of　bats　and　owls。　I　thought　that　of　all　the　stately　front　nothing　remained　but　a　shell…like　wall；　very　high　and　very　fragile…looking。　I　wandered；　on　a　moonlight　night；　through　the　grass…grown　enclosure　within：　here　I　stumbled　over　a　marble　hearth；　and　there　over　a　fallen　fragment　of　cornice。　Wrapped　up　in　a　shawl；　I　still　carried　the　unknown　little　child：　I　might　not　lay　it　down　anywhere；　however　tired　were　my　arms—however　much　its　weight　impeded　my　progress；　I　must　retain　it。　I　heard　the　gallop　of　a　horse　at　a　distance　on　the　road；　I　was　sure　it　was　you；　and　you　were　departing　for　many　years　and　for　a　distant　country。　I　climbed　the　thin　wall　with　frantic　perilous　haste；　eager　to　catch　one　glimpse　of　you　from　the　top：　the　stones　rolled　from　under　my　feet；　the　ivy　branches　I　grasped　gave　way；　the　child　clung　round　my　neck　in　terror；　and　almost　strangled　me；　at　last　I　gained　the　summit。　I　saw　you　like　a　speck　on　a　white　track；　lessening　every　moment。　The　blast　blew　so　strong　I　could　not　stand。　I　sat　down　on　the　narrow　ledge；　I　hushed　the　scared　infant　in　my　lap：　you　turned　an　angle　of　the　road：　I　bent　forward　to　take　a　last　look；　the　wall　crumbled；　I　was　shaken；　the　child　rolled　from　my　knee；　I　lost　my　balance；　fell；　and　woke。”
“Now；　Jane；　that　is　all。”
“All　the　preface；　sir；　the　tale　is　yet　to　e。　On　waking；　a　gleam　dazzled　my　eyes；　I　thought—Oh；　it　is　daylight！　But　I　was　mistaken；　it　was　only　candlelight。　Sophie；　I　supposed；　had　e　in。　There　was　a　light　in　the　dressing…table；　and　the　door　of　the　closet；　where；　before　going　to　bed；　I　had　hung　my　wedding…dress　and　veil；　stood　open；　I　heard　a　rustling　there。　I　asked；　‘Sophie；　what　are　you　doing？’　No　one　answered；　but　a　form　emerged　from　the　closet；　it　took　the　light；　held　it　aloft；　and　surveyed　the　garments　pendent　from　the　portmanteau。　‘Sophie！　Sophie！’　I　again　cried：　and　still　it　was　silent。　I　had　risen　up　in　bed；　I　bent　forward：　first　surprise；　then　bewilderment；　came　over　me；　and　then　my　blood　crept　cold　through　my　veins。　Mr。　Rochester；　this　was　not　Sophie；　it　was　not　Leah；　it　was　not　Mrs。　Fairfax：　it　was　not—no；　I　was　sure　of　it；　and　am　still—it　was　not　even　that　strange　woman；　Grace　Poole。”
“It　must　have　been　one　of　them；”　interrupted　my　master。
“No；　sir；　I　solemnly　assure　you　to　the　contrary。　The