Books: Jane Eyre

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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?"

"I love it now."

"But before me: if I, indeed, in any respect come up to your
difficult standard?"

"I never met your likeness. Jane, you please me, and you master me
-- you seem to submit, and I like the sense of pliancy you impart;
and while I am twining the soft, silken skein round my finger, it
sends a thrill up my arm to my heart. I am influenced -- conquered;
and the influence is sweeter than I can express; and the conquest
I undergo has a witchery beyond any triumph I can win. Why do you
smile, Jane? What does that inexplicable, that uncanny turn of
countenance mean?"

"I was thinking, sir (you will excuse the idea; it was involuntary),
I was thinking of Hercules and Samson with their charmers -- "

"You were, you little elfish -- "

"Hush, sir! You don't talk very wisely just now; any more than
those gentlemen acted very wisely. However, had they been married,
they would no doubt by their severity as husbands have made up for
their softness as suitors; and so will you, I fear. I wonder how
you will answer me a year hence, should I ask a favour it does not
suit your convenience or pleasure to grant."

"Ask me something now, Jane, -- the least thing: I desire
to be entreated -- "

"Indeed I will, sir; I have my petition all ready."

"Speak! But if you look up and smile with that countenance, I shall
swear concession before I know to what, and that will make a fool
of me."

"Not at all, sir; I ask only this: don't send for the jewels, and
don't crown me with roses: you might as well put a border of gold
lace round that plain pocket handkerchief you have there."

"I might as well 'gild refined gold.' I know it: your request is
granted then -- for the time. I will remand the order I despatched
to my banker. But you have not yet asked for anything; you have
prayed a gift to be withdrawn: try again."

"Well then, sir, have the goodness to gratify my curiosity, which
is much piqued on one point."

He looked disturbed. "What? what?" he said hastily. "Curiosity
is a dangerous petition: it is well I have not taken a
vow to accord every request -- "

"But there can be no danger in complying with this, sir."

"Utter it, Jane: but I wish that instead of a mere inquiry into,
perhaps, a secret, it was a wish for half my estate."

"Now, King Ahasuerus! What do I want with half your estate? Do
you think I am a Jew-usurer, seeking good investment in land? I
would much rather have all your confidence. You will not exclude
me from your confidence if you admit me to your heart?"

"You are welcome to all my confidence that is worth having, Jane;
but for God's sake, don't desire a useless burden! Don't long for
poison -- don't turn out a downright Eve on my hands!"

"Why not, sir? You have just been telling me how much you liked
to be conquered, and how pleasant over-persuasion is to you. Don't
you think I had better take advantage of the confession, and begin
and coax and entreat -- even cry and be sulky if necessary -- for
the sake of a mere essay of my power?"

"I dare you to any such experiment. Encroach, presume, and the
game is up."

"Is it, sir? You soon give in. How stern you look now! Your
eyebrows have become as thick as my finger, and your forehead
resembles what, in some very astonishing poetry, I once saw styled,
'a blue-piled thunderloft.' That will be your married look, sir,
I suppose?"

"If that will be YOUR married look, I, as a Christian, will soon
give up the notion of consorting with a mere sprite or salamander.
But what had you to ask, thing, -- out with it?"

"There, you are less than civil now; and I like rudeness a great
deal better than flattery. I had rather be a THING than an angel.
This is what I have to ask, -- Why did you take such pains to make
me believe you wished to marry Miss Ingram?"

"Is that all? Thank God it is no worse!" And now he unknit his
black brows; looked down, smiling at me, and stroked my hair, as if
well pleased at seeing a danger averted. "I think I may confess,"
he continued, "even although I should make you a little indignant,
Jane -- and I have seen what a fire-spirit you can be when you are
indignant. You glowed in the cool moonlight last night, when you
mutinied against fate, and claimed your rank as my equal. Janet,
by-the-bye, it was you who made me the offer."

"Of course I did. But to the point if you please, sir -- Miss
Ingram?"

"Well, I feigned courtship of Miss Ingram, because I wished to
render you as madly in love with me as I was with you; and I knew
jealousy would be the best ally I could call in for the furtherance
of that end."

"Excellent! Now you are small -- not one whit bigger than the
end of my little finger. It was a burning shame and a scandalous
disgrace to act in that way. Did you think nothing of Miss Ingram's
feelings, sir?"

"Her feelings are concentrated in one -- pride; and that needs
humbling. Were you jealous, Jane?"

"Never mind, Mr. Rochester: it is in no way interesting to you
to know that. Answer me truly once more. Do you think Miss Ingram
will not suffer from your dishonest coquetry? Won't she feel
forsaken and deserted?"

"Impossible! -- when I told you how she, on the contrary, deserted
me: the idea of my insolvency cooled, or rather extinguished, her
flame in a moment."

"You have a curious, designing mind, Mr. Rochester. I am afraid
your principles on some points are eccentric."

"My principles were never trained, Jane: they may have grown a
little awry for want of attention."

"Once again, seriously; may I enjoy the great good that has been
vouchsafed to me, without fearing that any one else is suffering
the bitter pain I myself felt a while ago?"

"That you may, my good little girl: there is not another being in
the world has the same pure love for me as yourself -- for I lay
that pleasant unction to my soul, Jane, a belief in your affection."

I turned my lips to the hand that lay on my shoulder. I loved him
very much -- more than I could trust myself to say -- more than
words had power to express.

"Ask something more," he said presently; "it is my delight to be
entreated, and to yield."

I was again ready with my request. "Communicate your intentions
to Mrs. Fairfax, sir: she saw me with you last night in the hall,
and she was shocked. Give her some explanation before I see her
again. It pains me to be misjudged by so good a woman."

"Go to your room, and put on your bonnet," he replied. "I mean
you to accompany me to Millcote this morning; and while you prepare
for the drive, I will enlighten the old lady's understanding. Did
she think, Janet, you had given the world for love, and considered
it well lost?"

"I believe she thought I had forgotten my station, and yours, sir."

"Station! station! -- your station is in my heart, and on the
necks of those who would insult you, now or hereafter. -- Go."

I was soon dressed; and when I heard Mr. Rochester quit Mrs.
Fairfax's parlour, I hurried down to it. The old lady, had been
reading her morning portion of Scripture -- the Lesson for the
day; her Bible lay open before her, and her spectacles were upon
it. Her occupation, suspended by Mr. Rochester's announcement,
seemed now forgotten: her eyes, fixed on the blank wall opposite,
expressed the surprise of a quiet mind stirred by unwonted tidings.
Seeing me, she roused herself: she made a sort of effort to smile,
and framed a few words of congratulation; but the smile expired, and
the sentence was abandoned unfinished. She put up her spectacles,
shut the Bible, and pushed her chair back from the table.

"I feel so astonished," she began, "I hardly know what to say to
you, Miss Eyre. I have surely not been dreaming, have I? Sometimes
I half fall asleep when I am sitting alone and fancy things that
have never happened. It has seemed to me more than once when I
have been in a doze, that my dear husband, who died fifteen years
since, has come in and sat down beside me; and that I have even
heard him call me by my name, Alice, as he used to do. Now, can
you tell me whether it is actually true that Mr. Rochester has
asked you to marry him? Don't laugh at me. But I really thought
he came in here five minutes ago, and said that in a month you
would be his wife."

"He has said the same thing to me," I replied.

"He has! Do you believe him? Have you accepted him?"

"Yes."

She looked at me bewildered. "I could never have thought it. He
is a proud man: all the Rochesters were proud: and his father,
at least, liked money. He, too, has always been called careful.
He means to marry you?"

"He tells me so."

She surveyed my whole person: in her eyes I read that they had
there found no charm powerful enough to solve the enigma.

"It passes me!" she continued; "but no doubt, it is true since you
say so. How it will answer, I cannot tell: I really don't know.
Equality of position and fortune is often advisable in such cases;
and there are twenty years of difference in your ages. He might
almost be your father."

"No, indeed, Mrs. Fairfax!" exclaimed I, nettled; "he is nothing
like my father! No one, who saw us together, would suppose it for
an instant. Mr. Rochester looks as young, and is as young, as some
men at five-and-twenty."

"Is it really for love he is going to marry you?" she asked.

I was so hurt by her coldness and scepticism, that the tears rose
to my eyes.

"I am sorry to grieve you," pursued the widow; "but you are
so young, and so little acquainted with men, I wished to put you
on your guard. It is an old saying that 'all is not gold that
glitters;' and in this case I do fear there will be something found
to be different to what either you or I expect."

"Why? -- am I a monster?" I said: "is it impossible that Mr.
Rochester should have a sincere affection for me?"

"No: you are very well; and much improved of late; and Mr. Rochester,
I daresay, is fond of you. I have always noticed that you were a
sort of pet of his. There are times when, for your sake, I have
been a little uneasy at his marked preference, and have wished
to put you on your guard: but I did not like to suggest even the
possibility of wrong. I knew such an idea would shock, perhaps
offend you; and you were so discreet, and so thoroughly modest and
sensible, I hoped you might be trusted to protect yourself. Last
night I cannot tell you what I suffered when I sought all over
the house, and could find you nowhere, nor the master either; and
then, at twelve o'clock, saw you come in with him."

"Well, never mind that now," I interrupted impatiently; "it is
enough that all was right."

"I hope all will be right in the end," she said: "but believe me,
you cannot be too careful. Try and keep Mr. Rochester at a distance:
distrust yourself as well as him. Gentlemen in his station are
not accustomed to marry their governesses."

I was growing truly irritated: happily, Adele ran in.

"Let me go, -- let me go to Millcote too!" she cried. "Mr. Rochester
won't: though there is so much room in the new carriage. Beg him
to let me go mademoiselle."

"That I will, Adele;" and I hastened away with her, glad to quit
my gloomy monitress. The carriage was ready: they were bringing
it round to the front, and my master was on the pavement, Pilot
following him backwards and forwards.

"Adele may accompany us, may she not, sir?"

"I told her no. I'll have no brats! -- I'll have only you."

"Do let her go, Mr. Rochester, if you please: it would be better."

"Not it: she will be a restraint."

He was quite peremptory, both in look and voice. The chill of
Mrs. Fairfax's warnings, and the damp of her doubts were upon me:
something of unsubstantiality and uncertainty had beset my hopes.
I half lost the sense of power over him. I was about mechanically
to obey him, without further remonstrance; but as he helped me into
the carriage, he looked at my face.

"What is the matter?" he asked; "all the sunshine is gone. Do
you really wish the bairn to go? Will it annoy you if she is left
behind?"

"I would far rather she went, sir."

"Then off for your bonnet, and back like a flash of lightning!"
cried he to Adele.

She obeyed him with what speed she might.

"After all, a single morning's interruption will not matter much,"
said he, "when I mean shortly to claim you -- your thoughts,
conversation, and company -- for life."

Adele, when lifted in, commenced kissing me, by way of expressing
her gratitude for my intercession: she was instantly stowed away
into a corner on the other side of him. She then peeped round to
where I sat; so stern a neighbour was too restrictive to him, in
his present fractious mood, she dared whisper no observations, nor
ask of him any information.

"Let her come to me," I entreated: "she will, perhaps, trouble
you, sir: there is plenty of room on this side."

He handed her over as if she had been a lapdog. "I'll send her to
school yet," he said, but now he was smiling.

Adele heard him, and asked if she was to go to school "sans
mademoiselle?"

"Yes," he replied, "absolutely sans mademoiselle; for I am to take
mademoiselle to the moon, and there I shall seek a cave in one of
the white valleys among the volcano-tops, and mademoiselle shall
live with me there, and only me."

"She will have nothing to eat: you will starve her," observed
Adele.

"I shall gather manna for her morning and night: the plains and
hillsides in the moon are bleached with manna, Adele."

"She will want to warm herself: what will she do for a fire?"

"Fire rises out of the lunar mountains: when she is cold, I'll
carry her up to a peak, and lay her down on the edge of a crater."

"Oh, qu' elle y sera mal -- peu comfortable! And her clothes, they
will wear out: how can she get new ones?"

Mr. Rochester professed to be puzzled. "Hem!" said he. "What
would you do, Adele? Cudgel your brains for an expedient. How
would a white or a pink cloud answer for a gown, do you think? And
one could cut a pretty enough scarf out of a rainbow."

"She is far better as she is," concluded Adele, after musing some
time: "besides, she would get tired of living with only you in
the moon. If I were mademoiselle, I would never consent to go with
you."

"She has consented: she has pledged her word."

"But you can't get her there; there is no road to the moon: it is
all air; and neither you nor she can fly."

"Adele, look at that field." We were now outside Thornfield gates,
and bowling lightly along the smooth road to Millcote, where the
dust was well laid by the thunderstorm, and, where the low hedges
and lofty timber trees on each side glistened green and rain-refreshed.

"In that field, Adele, I was walking late one evening about
a fortnight since -- the evening of the day you helped me to make
hay in the orchard meadows; and, as I was tired with raking swaths,
I sat down to rest me on a stile; and there I took out a little book
and a pencil, and began to write about a misfortune that befell me
long ago, and a wish I had for happy days to come: I was writing
away very fast, though daylight was fading from the leaf, when
something came up the path and stopped two yards off me. I looked
at it. It was a little thing with a veil of gossamer on its head.
I beckoned it to come near me; it stood soon at my knee. I never
spoke to it, and it never spoke to me, in words; but I read its eyes,
and it read mine; and our speechless colloquy was to this effect -

"It was a fairy, and come from Elf-land, it said; and its errand
was to make me happy: I must go with it out of the common world to
a lonely place -- such as the moon, for instance -- and it nodded
its head towards her horn, rising over Hay-hill: it told me of
the alabaster cave and silver vale where we might live. I said I
should like to go; but reminded it, as you did me, that I had no
wings to fly.

"'Oh,' returned the fairy, 'that does not signify! Here is a
talisman will remove all difficulties;' and she held out a pretty
gold ring. 'Put it,' she said, 'on the fourth finger of my left
hand, and I am yours, and you are mine; and we shall leave earth,
and make our own heaven yonder.' She nodded again at the moon.
The ring, Adele, is in my breeches-pocket, under the disguise of
a sovereign: but I mean soon to change it to a ring again."

"But what has mademoiselle to do with it? I don't care for the
fairy: you said it was mademoiselle you would take to the moon?"

"Mademoiselle is a fairy," he said, whispering mysteriously. Whereupon
I told her not to mind his badinage; and she, on her part, evinced
a fund of genuine French scepticism: denominating Mr. Rochester "un
vrai menteur," and assuring him that she made no account whatever
of his "contes de fee," and that "du reste, il n'y avait pas de
fees, et quand meme il y en avait:" she was sure they would never
appear to him, nor ever give him rings, or offer to live with him
in the moon.