"Give me the water, Mary," he said.

I approached him with the now only half-filled glass; Pilot followed

me, still excited.

"What is the matter?" he inquired.

"Down, Pilot!" I again said. He checked the water on its way to his

lips, and seemed to listen: he drank, and put the glass down.

"This is you, Mary, is it not?"

"Mary is in the kitchen," I answered.

He put out his hand with a quick gesture, but not seeing where I

stood, he did not touch me. "Who is this? Who is this?" he

demanded, trying, as it seemed, to SEE with those sightless eyes--

unavailing and distressing attempt! "Answer me--speak again!" he

ordered, imperiously and aloud.

"Will you have a little more water, sir? I spilt half of what was

in the glass," I said.

"WHO is it? WHAT is it? Who speaks?"

"Pilot knows me, and John and Mary know I am here. I came only this

evening," I answered.

"Great God!--what delusion has come over me? What sweet madness has

seized me?"

"No delusion--no madness: your mind, sir, is too strong for

delusion, your health too sound for frenzy."

"And where is the speaker? Is it only a voice? Oh! I CANNOT see,

but I must feel, or my heart will stop and my brain burst.

Whatever--whoever you are--be perceptible to the touch or I cannot

live!"

He groped; I arrested his wandering hand, and prisoned it in both

mine.

"Her very fingers!" he cried; "her small, slight fingers! If so

there must be more of her."

The muscular hand broke from my custody; my arm was seized, my

shoulder--neck--waist--I was entwined and gathered to him.

"Is it Jane? WHAT is it? This is her shape--this is her size--"

"And this her voice," I added. "She is all here: her heart, too.

God bless you, sir! I am glad to be so near you again."

"Jane Eyre!--Jane Eyre," was all he said.

"My dear master," I answered, "I am Jane Eyre: I have found you

out--I am come back to you."

"In truth?--in the flesh? My living Jane?"

"You touch me, sir,--you hold me, and fast enough: I am not cold

like a corpse, nor vacant like air, am I?"

"My living darling! These are certainly her limbs, and these her

features; but I cannot be so blest, after all my misery. It is a

dream; such dreams as I have had at night when I have clasped her

once more to my heart, as I do now; and kissed her, as thus--and

felt that she loved me, and trusted that she would not leave me."




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