"All day yesterday I was very busy, and very happy in my ceaseless

bustle; for I am not, as you seem to think, troubled by any haunting

fears about the new sphere, et cetera: I think it a glorious thing

to have the hope of living with you, because I love you. No, sir,

don't caress me now--let me talk undisturbed. Yesterday I trusted

well in Providence, and believed that events were working together

for your good and mine: it was a fine day, if you recollect--the

calmness of the air and sky forbade apprehensions respecting your

safety or comfort on your journey. I walked a little while on the

pavement after tea, thinking of you; and I beheld you in imagination

so near me, I scarcely missed your actual presence. I thought of

the life that lay before me--YOUR life, sir--an existence more

expansive and stirring than my own: as much more so as the depths

of the sea to which the brook runs are than the shallows of its own

strait channel. I wondered why moralists call this world a dreary

wilderness: for me it blossomed like a rose. Just at sunset, the

air turned cold and the sky cloudy: I went in, Sophie called me

upstairs to look at my wedding-dress, which they had just brought;

and under it in the box I found your present--the veil which, in

your princely extravagance, you sent for from London: resolved, I

suppose, since I would not have jewels, to cheat me into accepting

something as costly. I smiled as I unfolded it, and devised how I

would tease you about your aristocratic tastes, and your efforts to

masque your plebeian bride in the attributes of a peeress. I though

how I would carry down to you the square of unembroidered blond I

had myself prepared as a covering for my low-born head, and ask if

that was not good enough for a woman who could bring her husband

neither fortune, beauty, nor connections. I saw plainly how you

would look; and heard your impetuous republican answers, and your

haughty disavowal of any necessity on your part to augment your

wealth, or elevate your standing, by marrying either a purse or a

coronet."

"How well you read me, you witch!" interposed Mr. Rochester: "but

what did you find in the veil besides its embroidery? Did you find

poison, or a dagger, that you look so mournful now?"

"No, no, sir; besides the delicacy and richness of the fabric, I

found nothing save Fairfax Rochester's pride; and that did not scare

me, because I am used to the sight of the demon. But, sir, as it

grew dark, the wind rose: it blew yesterday evening, not as it

blows now--wild and high--but 'with a sullen, moaning sound' far

more eerie. I wished you were at home. I came into this room, and

the sight of the empty chair and fireless hearth chilled me. For

some time after I went to bed, I could not sleep--a sense of anxious

excitement distressed me. The gale still rising, seemed to my ear

to muffle a mournful under-sound; whether in the house or abroad I

could not at first tell, but it recurred, doubtful yet doleful at

every lull; at last I made out it must be some dog howling at a

distance. I was glad when it ceased. On sleeping, I continued in

dreams the idea of a dark and gusty night. I continued also the

wish to be with you, and experienced a strange, regretful

consciousness of some barrier dividing us. During all my first

sleep, I was following the windings of an unknown road; total

obscurity environed me; rain pelted me; I was burdened with the

charge of a little child: a very small creature, too young and

feeble to walk, and which shivered in my cold arms, and wailed

piteously in my ear. I thought, sir, that you were on the road a

long way before me; and I strained every nerve to overtake you, and

made effort on effort to utter your name and entreat you to stop--

but my movements were fettered, and my voice still died away

inarticulate; while you, I felt, withdrew farther and farther every

moment."




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