licence to get--then we marry."

"Mr. Rochester, I have just discovered the sun is far declined from its
meridian, and Pilot is actually gone home to his dinner. Let me look at
your watch."

"Fasten it into your girdle, Janet, and keep it henceforward: I have no
use for it."

"It is nearly four o'clock in the afternoon, sir. Don't you feel
hungry?"

"The third day from this must be our wedding-day, Jane. Never mind fine
clothes and jewels, now: all that is not worth a fillip."

"The sun has dried up all the rain-drops, sir. The breeze is still: it
is quite hot."

"Do you know, Jane, I have your little pearl necklace at this moment
fastened round my bronze scrag under my cravat? I have worn it since the
day I lost my only treasure, as a memento of her."

"We will go home through the wood: that will be the shadiest way."

He pursued his own thoughts without heeding me.

"Jane! you think me, I daresay, an irreligious dog: but my heart swells
with gratitude to the beneficent God of this earth just now. He sees not
as man sees, but far clearer: judges not as man judges, but far more
wisely. I did wrong: I would have sullied my innocent flower--breathed
guilt on its purity: the Omnipotent snatched it from me. I, in my stiff-
necked rebellion, almost cursed the dispensation: instead of bending to
the decree, I defied it. Divine justice pursued its course; disasters
came thick on me: I was forced to pass through the valley of the shadow
of death. _His_ chastisements are mighty; and one smote me which has
humbled me for ever. You know I was proud of my strength: but what is it
now, when I must give it over to foreign guidance, as a child does its
weakness? Of late, Jane--only--only of late--I began to see and
acknowledge the hand of God in my doom. I began to experience remorse,
repentance; the wish for reconcilement to my Maker. I began sometimes to
pray: very brief prayers they were, but very sincere.

"Some days since: nay, I can number them--four; it was last Monday night,
a singular mood came over me: one in which grief replaced frenzy--sorrow,
sullenness. I had long had the impression that since I could nowhere
find you, you must be dead. Late that night--perhaps it might be between
eleven and twelve o'clock--ere I retired to my dreary rest, I supplicated
God, that, if it seemed good to Him, I might soon be taken from this
life, and admitted to that world to come, where there was still hope of