continuous?”
“The eagerness of a listener quickens the tongue of a narrator。” I said this rather to myself than to the gipsy; whose strange talk; voice; manner; had by this time wrapped me in a kind of dream。 One unexpected sentence came from her lips after another; till I got involved in a web of mystification; and wondered what unseen spirit had been sitting for weeks by my heart watching its workings and taking record of every pulse。
“Eagerness of a listener!” repeated she: “yes; Mr。 Rochester has sat by the hour; his ear inclined to the fascinating lips that took such delight in their task of municating; and Mr。 Rochester was so willing to receive and looked so grateful for the pastime given him; you have noticed this?”
“Grateful! I cannot remember detecting gratitude in his face。”
“Detecting! You have analysed; then。 And what did you detect; if not gratitude?”
I said nothing。
“You have seen love: have you not?—and; looking forward; you have seen him married; and beheld his bride happy?”
“Humph! Not exactly。 Your witch’s skill is rather at fault sometimes。”
“What the devil have you seen; then?”
“Never mind: I came here to inquire; not to confess。 Is it known that Mr。 Rochester is to be married?”
“Yes; and to the beautiful Miss Ingram。”
“Shortly?”
“Appearances would warrant that conclusion: and; no doubt (though; with an audacity that wants chastising out of you; you seem to question it); they will be a superlatively happy pair。 He must love such a handsome; noble; witty; acplished lady; and probably she loves him; or; if not his person; at least his purse。 I know she considers the Rochester estate eligible to the last degree; though (God pardon me!) I told her something on that point about an hour ago which made her look wondrous grave: the corners of her mouth fell half an inch。 I would advise her blackaviced suitor to look out: if another es; with a longer or clearer rent…roll;—he’s dished—”
“But; mother; I did not e to hear Mr。 Rochester’s fortune: I came to hear my own; and you have told me nothing of it。”
“Your fortune is yet doubtful: when I examined your face; one trait contradicted another。 Chance has meted you a measure of happiness: that I know。 I knew it before I came here this evening。 She has laid it carefully on one side for you。 I saw her do it。 It depends on yourself to stretch out your hand; and take it up: but whether you will do so; is the problem I study。 Kneel again on the rug。”
“Don’t keep me long; the fire scorches me。”
I knelt。 She did not stoop towards me; but only gazed; leaning back in her chair。 She began muttering;—
“The flame flickers in the eye; the eye shines like dew; it looks soft and full of feeling; it smiles at my jargon: it is susceptible; impression follows impression through its clear sphere; where it ceases to smile; it is sad; an unconscious lassitude weighs on the lid: that signifies melancholy resulting from loneliness。 It turns from me; it will not suffer further scrutiny; it seems to deny; by a mocking glance; the truth of the discoveries I have already made;—to disown the charge both of sensibility and chagrin: its pride and reserve only confirm me in my opinion。 The eye is favourable。
“As to the mouth; it delights at times in laughter; it is disposed to impart all that the brain conceives; though I daresay it would be silent on much the heart experiences。 Mobile and flexible; it was never intended to be pressed in the eternal silence of solitude: it is a mouth which should speak much and smile often; and have human affection for its interlocutor。 That feature too is propitious。
“I see no enemy to a fortunate issue but in the brow; and that brow professes to say;—‘I can live alone; if self…respect; and circumstances require me so to do。 I need not sell my soul to buy bliss。 I have an inward treasure born with me; which can keep me alive if all extraneous delights should be withheld; or offered only at a price I cannot afford to give。’ The forehead declares; ‘Reason sits firm and holds the reins; and she will not let the feelings burst away and hurry her to wild chasms。 The passions may rage furiously; like true heathens; as they are; and the desires may imagine all sorts of vain things: but judgment shall still have the last word in every argument; and the casting vote in every decision。 Strong wind; earthquake…shock; and fire may pass by: but I shall follow the guiding of that still small voice which interprets the dictates of conscience。’
“Well said; forehead; your declaration shall be respected。 I have formed my plans—right plans I deem them—and in them I have attended to the claims of conscience; the counsels of reason。 I know how soon youth would fade and bloom perish; if; in the cup of bliss offered; but one dreg of shame; or one flavour of remorse were detected; and I do not want sacrifice; sorrow; dissolution—such is not my taste。 I wish to foster; not to blight—to earn gratitude; not to wring tears of blood—no; nor of brine: my harvest must be in smiles; in endearments; in sweet— That will do。 I think I rave in a kind of exquisite delirium。 I should wish now to protract this moment ad infinitum; but I dare not。 So far I have governed myself thoroughly。 I have acted as I inwardly swore I would act; but further might try me beyond my strength。 Rise; Miss Eyre: leave me; the play is played out’。”
Where was I? Did I wake or sleep? Had I been dreaming? Did I dream still? The old woman’s voice had changed: her accent; her gesture; and all were familiar to me as my own face in a glass—as the speech of my own tongue。 I got up; but did not go。 I looked; I stirred the fire; and I looked again: but she drew her bon and her bandage closer about her face; and again beckoned me to depart。 The flame illuminated her hand stretched out: roused now; and on the alert for discoveries; I at once noticed that hand。 It was no more the withered limb of eld than my own; it was a rounded supple member; with smooth fingers; symmetrically turned; a broad ring flashed on the little finger; and stooping forward; I looked at it; and saw a gem I had seen a hundred times before。 Again I looked at the face; which was no longer turned from me—on the contrary; the bon was doffed; the bandage displaced; the head advanced。
“Well; Jane; do you know me?” asked the familiar voice。
“Only take off the red cloak; sir; and then—”
“But the string is in a knot—help me。”
“Break it; sir。”
“There; then—‘Off; ye lendings!’” And Mr。 Rochester stepped out of his disguise。
“Now; sir; what a strange idea!”
“But well carried out; eh? Don’t you think so?”
“With the ladies you must have managed well。”
“But not with you?”
“You did not act the character of a gipsy with me。”
“What character did I act? My own?”
“No; some unaccountable one。 In short; I believe you have been trying to draw me out—or in; you have been talking nonsense to make me talk nonsense。 It is scarcely fair; sir。”
“Do you forgive me; Jane?”
“I cannot tell till I have thought it all over。 If; on reflection; I find I have fallen into no great absurdity; I shall try to forgive you; but it was not right。”
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