workings in the features, and strange gleams in the eyes.

"Oh, Jane, you torture me!" he exclaimed. "With that searching and yet
faithful and generous look, you torture me!"

"How can I do that? If you are true, and your offer real, my only
feelings to you must be gratitude and devotion--they cannot torture."

"Gratitude!" he ejaculated; and added wildly--"Jane accept me quickly.
Say, Edward--give me my name--Edward--I will marry you."

"Are you in earnest? Do you truly love me? Do you sincerely wish me to
be your wife?"

"I do; and if an oath is necessary to satisfy you, I swear it."

"Then, sir, I will marry you."

"Edward--my little wife!"

"Dear Edward!"

"Come to me--come to me entirely now," said he; and added, in his deepest
tone, speaking in my ear as his cheek was laid on mine, "Make my
happiness--I will make yours."

"God pardon me!" he subjoined ere long; "and man meddle not with me: I
have her, and will hold her."

"There is no one to meddle, sir. I have no kindred to interfere."

"No--that is the best of it," he said. And if I had loved him less I
should have thought his accent and look of exultation savage; but,
sitting by him, roused from the nightmare of parting--called to the
paradise of union--I thought only of the bliss given me to drink in so
abundant a flow. Again and again he said, "Are you happy, Jane?" And
again and again I answered, "Yes." After which he murmured, "It will
atone--it will atone. Have I not found her friendless, and cold, and
comfortless? Will I not guard, and cherish, and solace her? Is there
not love in my heart, and constancy in my resolves? It will expiate at
God's tribunal. I know my Maker sanctions what I do. For the world's
judgment--I wash my hands thereof. For man's opinion--I defy it."

But what had befallen the night? The moon was not yet set, and we were
all in shadow: I could scarcely see my master's face, near as I was. And
what ailed the chestnut tree? it writhed and groaned; while wind roared
in the laurel walk, and came sweeping over us.

"We must go in," said Mr. Rochester: "the weather changes. I could have
sat with thee till morning, Jane."

"And so," thought I, "could I with you." I should have said so, perhaps,
but a livid, vivid spark leapt out of a cloud at which I was looking, and
there was a crack, a crash, and a close rattling peal; and I thought only
of hiding my dazzled eyes against Mr. Rochester's shoulder.

The