'All the preface, sir; the tale is yet to come. 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 come 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 shape standing
before me had never crossed my eyes within the precincts of Thornfield
Hall before; the height, the contour were new to me.'
'Describe it, Jane.'
'It seemed, sir, a woman, tall and large, with thick and dark
hair hanging long down her back. I know not what dress she had on:
it was white and straight; but whether gown, sheet, or shroud, I
cannot tell.'
'Did you see her face?'
'Not at first. But presently she took my veil from its place; she
held it up, gazed at it long, and then she threw it over her own head,
and turned to the mirror. At that moment I saw the reflection of the
visage and features quite distinctly in the dark oblong glass.'
'And how were they?'
'Fearful and ghastly to me- oh, sir, I never saw a face like it! It
was a discoloured face- it was a savage face. I wish I could forget
the roll of the red eyes and the fearful blackened inflation of the
lineaments!'
'Ghosts are usually pale, Jane.'
'This, sir, was purple: the lips were swelled and dark; the brow
furrowed: the black eyebrows widely raised over the bloodshot eyes.
Shall I tell you of what it reminded me?'
'You may.'
'Of the foul German spectre- the Vampyre.'
'Ah!- what did it do?'
'Sir, it removed my veil from its gaunt head, rent it in two parts,
and flinging both on the floor, trampled on them.'
'Afterwards?'
'It drew aside the window-curtain and looked out; perhaps it saw
dawn approaching, for, taking the candle, it retreated to the door.
Just at my bedside, the figure stopped: the fiery eyes glared upon me-
she thrust up her candle close to my face, and extinguished it under
my eyes. I was aware her lurid visage flamed over mine, and I lost
consciousness: for the second time in my life- only the second time- I
became insensible from terror.'
'Who was with you when you revived?'
'No one, sir, but the broad day. I rose, bathed my head and face in
water, drank a long draught; felt that though enfeebled I was not ill,
and determined that to none but you would I impart this vision. Now
sir, tell me who and what that woman was?'
'The creature of an over-stimulated brain; that is certain. I
must be careful of you, my treasure: nerves like yours were not made
for rough handling.'
'Sir, depend on it, my nerves were not in fault; the thing was
real: the transaction actually took place.'
'And your previous dreams, were they real too? Is Thornfield Hall a
ruin? Am I severed from you by insuperable obstacles? Am I leaving you
without a tear- without a kiss- without a word?'
'Not yet.'
'Am I about to do it? Why, the day is already commenced which is to
bind us indissolubly; and when we are once united, there shall be no
recurrence of these mental terrors: I guarantee that.'
'Mental terrors, sir! I wish I could believe them to be only
such: I wish it more now than ever; since even you cannot explain to
me the mystery of that awful visitant.'
'And since I cannot do it, Jane, it must have been unreal.'
'But, sir, when I said so to myself on rising this morning, and
when I looked round the room to gather courage and comfort from the
cheerful aspect of each familiar object in full daylight, there- on
the carpet- I saw what gave the distinct lie to my hypothesis,- the
veil, torn from top to bottom in two halves!'
I felt Mr. Rochester start and shudder; he hastily flung his arms
round me. 'Thank God!' he exclaimed, 'that if anything malignant did
come near you last night, it was only the veil that was harmed. Oh, to
think what might have happened!'
He drew his breath short, and strained me so close to him, I
could scarcely pant. After some minutes' silence, he continued,
cheerily-
'Now, Janet, I'll explain to you all about it. It was half dream,
half reality. A woman did, I doubt not, enter your room: and that
woman was- must have been- Grace Poole. You call her a strange being
yourself: from all you know, you have reason so to call her- what
did she do to me? what to Mason? In a state between sleeping and
waking, you noticed her entrance and her actions; but feverish, almost
delirious as you were, you ascribed to her a goblin appearance
different from her own: the long dishevelled hair, the swelled black
face, the exaggerated stature, were figments of imagination; results
of nightmare: the spiteful tearing of the veil was real: and it is
like her. I see you would ask why I keep such a woman in my house:
when we have been married a year and a day, I will tell you; but not
now. Are you satisfied, Jane? Do you accept my solution of the
mystery?'
I reflected, and in truth it appeared to me the only possible
one: satisfied I was not, but to please him I endeavoured to appear
so- relieved, I certainly did feel; so I answered him with a contented
smile. And now, as it was long past one, I prepared to leave him.
'Does not Sophie sleep with Adele in the nursery?' he asked, as I
lit my candle.
'Yes, sir.'
'And there is room enough in Adele's little bed for you. You must
share it with her to-night, Jane: it is no wonder that the incident
you have related should make you nervous, and I would rather you did
not sleep alone: promise me to go to the nursery.'
'I shall be very glad to do so, sir.'
'And fasten the door securely on the inside. Wake Sophie when you
go upstairs, under pretence of requesting her to rouse you in good
time to-morrow; for you must be dressed and have finished breakfast
before eight. And now, no more sombre thoughts: chase dull care
away, Janet. Don't you hear to what soft whispers the wind has fallen?
and there is no more beating of rain against the window-panes: look
here' (he lifted up the curtain)- 'it is a lovely night!'
It was. Half heaven was pure and stainless: the clouds, now
trooping before the wind, which had shifted to the west, were filing
off eastward in long, silvered columns. The moon shone peacefully.
'Well,' said Mr. Rochester, gazing inquiringly into my eyes, 'how
is my Janet now?'
'The night is serene, sir; and so am I.'
'And you will not dream of separation and sorrow to-night; but of
happy love and blissful union.'
This prediction was but half fulfilled: I did not indeed dream of
sorrow, but as little did I dream of joy; for I never slept at all.
With little Adele in my arms, I watched the slumber of childhood- so
tranquil, so passionless, so innocent- and waited for the coming
day: all my life was awake and astir in my frame: and as soon as the
sun rose I rose too. I remember Adele clung to me as I left her: I
remember I kissed her as I loosened her little hands from my neck; and
I cried over her with strange emotion, and quitted her because I
feared my sobs would break her still sound repose. She seemed the
emblem of my past life; and he I was now to array myself to meet,
the dread, but adored, type of my unknown future day.
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CHAPTER XXVI
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SOPHIE came at seven to dress me: she was very long indeed in
accomplishing her task; so long that Mr. Rochester, grown, I
suppose, impatient of my delay, sent up to ask why I did not come. She
was just fastening my veil (the plain square of blond after all) to my
hair with a brooch; I hurried from under her hands as soon as I could.
'Stop!' she cried in French. 'Look at yourself in the mirror: you
have not taken one peep.'
So I turned at the door: I saw a robed and veiled figure, so unlike
my usual self that it seemed almost the image of a stranger. 'Jane!'
called a voice, and I hastened down. I was received at the foot of the
stairs by Mr. Rochester.
'Lingerer!' he said, 'my brain is on fire with impatience, and
you tarry so long!'
He took me into the dining-room, surveyed me keenly all over,
pronounced me 'fair as a lily, and not only the pride of his life, but
the desire of his eyes,' and then telling me he would give me but
ten minutes to eat some breakfast, he rang the bell. One of his lately
hired servants, a footman, answered it.
'Is John getting the carriage ready?'
'Yes, sir.'
'Is the luggage brought down?'
'They are bringing it down, sir.'
'Go you to the church: see if Mr. Wood (the clergyman) and the
clerk are there: return and tell me.'
The church, as the reader knows, was but just beyond the gates; the
footman soon returned.
'Mr. Wood is in the vestry, sir, putting on his surplice.'
'And the carriage?'
'The horses are harnessing.'
'We shall not want it to go to church; but it must be ready the
moment we return: all the boxes and luggage arranged and strapped
on, and the coachman in his seat.'
'Yes, sir.'
'Jane, are you ready?'
I rose. There were no groomsmen, no bridesmaids, no relatives to
wait for or marshal: none but Mr. Rochester and I. Mrs. Fairfax
stood in the hall as we passed. I would fain have spoken to her, but
my hand was held by a grasp of iron: I was hurried along by a stride I
could hardly follow; and to look at Mr. Rochester's face was to feel
that not a second of delay would be tolerated for any purpose. I
wonder what other bridegroom ever looked as he did- so bent up to a
purpose, so grimly resolute: or who, under such steadfast brows,
ever revealed such flaming and flashing eyes.
I know not whether the day was fair or foul; in descending the
drive, I gazed neither on sky nor earth: my heart was with my eyes;
and both seemed migrated into Mr. Rochester's frame. I wanted to see
the invisible thing on which, as we went along, he appeared to
fasten a glance fierce and fell. I wanted to feel the thoughts whose
force he seemed breasting and resisting.
At the churchyard wicket he stopped: he discovered I was quite
out of breath. 'Am I cruel in my love?' he said. 'Delay an instant:
lean on me, Jane.'
And now I can recall the picture of the grey old house of God
rising calm before me, of a rook wheeling round the steeple, of a
ruddy morning sky beyond. I remember something, too, of the green
grave-mounds; and I have not forgotten, either, two figures of
strangers straying amongst the low hillocks and reading the
mementoes graven on the few mossy head-stones. I noticed them,
because, as they saw us, they passed round to the back of the
church; and I doubted not they were going to enter by the side-aisle
door and witness the ceremony. By Mr. Rochester they were not
observed; he was earnestly looking at my face, from which the blood
had, I daresay, momentarily fled: for I felt my forehead dewy, and
my cheeks and lips cold. When I rallied, which I soon did, he walked
gently with me up the path to the porch.
We entered the quiet and humble temple; the priest waited in his
white surplice at the lowly altar, the clerk beside him. All was
still: two shadows only moved in a remote corner. My conjecture had
been correct: the strangers had slipped in before us, and they now
stood by the vault of the Rochesters, their backs towards us,
viewing through the rails the old times-stained marble tomb, where a
kneeling angel guarded the remains of Damer de Rochester, slain at
Marston Moor in the time of the civil wars, and of Elizabeth, his
wife.
Our place was taken at the communion rails. Hearing a cautious step
behind me, I glanced over my shoulder: one of the strangers- a
gentleman, evidently- was advancing up the chancel. The service began.
The explanation of the intent of matrimony was gone through; and
then the clergyman came a step farther forward, and, bending
slightly towards Mr. Rochester, went on.
'I require and charge you both (as ye will answer at the dreadful
day of judgment, when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed),
that if either of you know any impediment why ye may not lawfully be
joined together in matrimony, ye do now confess it; for be ye well
assured that so many as are coupled together otherwise than God's Word
doth allow, are not joined together by God, neither is their matrimony
lawful.'
He paused, as the custom is. When is the pause after that
