"One never knows what she has, sir: she is so cunning: it is not

in mortal discretion to fathom her craft."

"We had better leave her," whispered Mason.

"Go to the devil!" was his brother-in-law's recommendation.

"'Ware!" cried Grace. The three gentlemen retreated simultaneously.

Mr. Rochester flung me behind him: the lunatic sprang and grappled

his throat viciously, and laid her teeth to his cheek: they

struggled. She was a big woman, in stature almost equalling her

husband, and corpulent besides: she showed virile force in the

contest--more than once she almost throttled him, athletic as he

was. He could have settled her with a well-planted blow; but he

would not strike: he would only wrestle. At last he mastered her

arms; Grace Poole gave him a cord, and he pinioned them behind her:

with more rope, which was at hand, he bound her to a chair. The

operation was performed amidst the fiercest yells and the most

convulsive plunges. Mr. Rochester then turned to the spectators:

he looked at them with a smile both acrid and desolate.

"That is MY WIFE," said he. "Such is the sole conjugal embrace I am

ever to know--such are the endearments which are to solace my

leisure hours! And THIS is what I wished to have" (laying his hand

on my shoulder): "this young girl, who stands so grave and quiet at

the mouth of hell, looking collectedly at the gambols of a demon, I

wanted her just as a change after that fierce ragout. Wood and

Briggs, look at the difference! Compare these clear eyes with the

red balls yonder--this face with that mask--this form with that

bulk; then judge me, priest of the gospel and man of the law, and

remember with what judgment ye judge ye shall be judged! Off with

you now. I must shut up my prize."

We all withdrew. Mr. Rochester stayed a moment behind us, to give

some further order to Grace Poole. The solicitor addressed me as he

descended the stair.

"You, madam," said he, "are cleared from all blame: your uncle will

be glad to hear it--if, indeed, he should be still living--when Mr.

Mason returns to Madeira."

"My uncle! What of him? Do you know him?"

"Mr. Mason does. Mr. Eyre has been the Funchal correspondent of his

house for some years. When your uncle received your letter

intimating the contemplated union between yourself and Mr.

Rochester, Mr. Mason, who was staying at Madeira to recruit his

health, on his way back to Jamaica, happened to be with him. Mr.

Eyre mentioned the intelligence; for he knew that my client here was

acquainted with a gentleman of the name of Rochester. Mr. Mason,

astonished and distressed as you may suppose, revealed the real

state of matters. Your uncle, I am sorry to say, is now on a sick

bed; from which, considering the nature of his disease--decline--and

the stage it has reached, it is unlikely he will ever rise. He

could not then hasten to England himself, to extricate you from the

snare into which you had fallen, but he implored Mr. Mason to lose

no time in taking steps to prevent the false marriage. He referred

him to me for assistance. I used all despatch, and am thankful I

was not too late: as you, doubtless, must be also. Were I not

morally certain that your uncle will be dead ere you reach Madeira,

I would advise you to accompany Mr. Mason back; but as it is, I

think you had better remain in England till you can hear further,

either from or of Mr. Eyre. Have we anything else to stay for?" he

inquired of Mr. Mason.




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