hen it returns, and put
your salts to his nose; and you'll not speak to him on any pretext--and,
Richard, it will be at the peril of your life if you speak to her."

Two hours later the surgeon came and removed the injured man.

In the morning I heard Rochester in the yard, saying to some of the
visitors, "Mason got the start of you all this morning; he was gone
before sunrise. I rose to see him off."

_III.--The Shadowy Walk_

A splendid midsummer shone over England. In the sweetest hour of the
twenty-four, after the sun had gone down in simple state, and dew fell
cool on the panting plain, I had walked into the orchard, to the giant
horse-chestnut, near the sunk fence that separates the Hall grounds from
the lonely fields, when there came to me the warning fragrance of Mr.
Rochester's cigar. I was about to retreat when he intercepted me, and
said: "Turn back, Jane; on so lovely a night it is a shame to sit in the
house." I did not like to walk alone with my master at this hour in the
shadowy orchard, but could find no reason for leaving him.

"Jane," he recommenced, as we slowly strayed down in the direction of
the horse-chestnut, "Thornfield is a pleasant place in summer, is it
not?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you must have become in some degree attached to it?"

"I am attached to it, indeed."

"Pity!" he said, and paused.

"Must I move on, sir?" I asked.

"I believe you must, Jane."

This was a blow, but I did not let it prostrate me.

"Then you are going to be married, sir?"

"In about a month I hope to be a bridegroom. We have been good friends,
Jane, have we not?"

"Yes, sir."

"Here is the chestnut-tree; come, we will sit here in peace to-night."
He seated me and himself.

"Jane, do you hear the nightingale singing in the wood? Listen!"

In listening, I sobbed convulsively, for I could repress what I endured
no longer, and when I did speak, it was only to express an impetuous
wish that I had never been born, or never come to Thornfield.

"Because you are sorry to leave it?"

The vehemence of emotion was claiming mastery, and struggling for full
sway--to overcome, to live, rise, and reign at last; yes--and to speak.

"I grieve to leave Thornfield. I love Thornfield, because I have lived
in it a full and delightful life. I have not been trampled on; I have
not been petrified. I have talked face to face with what I delight
in--an original, a vigorous and expanded mind. I have known you, Mr.