"The devil is in it if you cannot answer distinctly. I again

demand, what have you to say?"

"Sir--sir," interrupted the clergyman, "do not forget you are in a

sacred place." Then addressing Mason, he inquired gently, "Are you

aware, sir, whether or not this gentleman's wife is still living?"

"Courage," urged the lawyer,--"speak out."

"She is now living at Thornfield Hall," said Mason, in more

articulate tones: "I saw her there last April. I am her brother."

"At Thornfield Hall!" ejaculated the clergyman. "Impossible! I am

an old resident in this neighbourhood, sir, and I never heard of a

Mrs. Rochester at Thornfield Hall."

I saw a grim smile contort Mr. Rochester's lips, and he muttered "No, by God! I took care that none should hear of it--or of her

under that name." He mused--for ten minutes he held counsel with

himself: he formed his resolve, and announced it "Enough! all shall bolt out at once, like the bullet from the

barrel. Wood, close your book and take off your surplice; John

Green (to the clerk), leave the church: there will be no wedding

to-day." The man obeyed.

Mr. Rochester continued, hardily and recklessly: "Bigamy is an ugly

word!--I meant, however, to be a bigamist; but fate has out-

manoeuvred me, or Providence has checked me,--perhaps the last. I

am little better than a devil at this moment; and, as my pastor

there would tell me, deserve no doubt the sternest judgments of God,

even to the quenchless fire and deathless worm. Gentlemen, my plan

is broken up:- what this lawyer and his client say is true: I have

been married, and the woman to whom I was married lives! You say

you never heard of a Mrs. Rochester at the house up yonder, Wood;

but I daresay you have many a time inclined your ear to gossip about

the mysterious lunatic kept there under watch and ward. Some have

whispered to you that she is my bastard half-sister: some, my cast-

off mistress. I now inform you that she is my wife, whom I married

fifteen years ago,--Bertha Mason by name; sister of this resolute

personage, who is now, with his quivering limbs and white cheeks,

showing you what a stout heart men may bear. Cheer up, Dick!--never

fear me!--I'd almost as soon strike a woman as you. Bertha Mason is

mad; and she came of a mad family; idiots and maniacs through three

generations? Her mother, the Creole, was both a madwoman and a

drunkard!--as I found out after I had wed the daughter: for they

were silent on family secrets before. Bertha, like a dutiful child,

copied her parent in both points. I had a charming partner--pure,

wise, modest: you can fancy I was a happy man. I went through rich

scenes! Oh! my experience has been heavenly, if you only knew it!

But I owe you no further explanation. Briggs, Wood, Mason, I invite

you all to come up to the house and visit Mrs. Poole's patient, and

MY WIFE! You shall see what sort of a being I was cheated into

espousing, and judge whether or not I had a right to break the

compact, and seek sympathy with something at least human. This

girl," he continued, looking at me, "knew no more than you, Wood, of

the disgusting secret: she thought all was fair and legal and never

dreamt she was going to be entrapped into a feigned union with a

defrauded wretch, already bound to a bad, mad, and embruted partner!

Come all of you--follow!"




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