Mr. Rochester(142)

But in the end, Jane fooled me. She did not come by coach as I had expected, but walked the way from Millcote on her own, across the fields and meadows. I saw her at a distance, and she seemed to me again like the woodland sprite she had appeared at our first meeting. I did not at first quite believe the vision, watching her coming toward me as evening fell. Here she was, my familiar Jane, sound in body and, I hoped, in spirit—not gone forever, but returning home to me, and I would never let her leave again.

I thought she did not see me until she was nearly upon me, and then she seemed a bit confused when I called out to her: “There you are! Come on, if you please.”

And she did come on, nearly as if in a trance, so astonished, I supposed, to find me there. “And this is Jane Eyre?” I said to her, nearly giddy simply to be in her presence. “Coming from Millcote, and on foot? Yes—just one of your tricks: not to send for a carriage, and come clattering over street and road like a common mortal, but to steal into the vicinage of your home”—yes, Jane, yes, I thought, this shall be your home forever—“along with twilight, just as if you were a dream or a shade. What the deuce have you done with yourself this last month?” She looked pale in the evening light, and I feared for her well-being.

“I have been with my aunt, sir, who is dead.”

“A true Janian reply! Good angels be my guard! She comes from the other world—from the abode of people who are dead; and tells me so when she meets me alone here in the gloaming! If I dared, I’d touch you, to see if you are substance or shadow, you elf!” As I longed to do, to gather her to me and never let her go. Instead, I continued my playful banter. “Truant! Absent from me a whole month: and forgetting me quite, I’ll be sworn!”

She did not contest this last, as I had wished, but instead she gazed about her, as if quite overcome, and I supposed she was. I had greeted her more effusively than I had ever done, but I could not help it: I, too, was overcome in the moment. She seemed so pure, so perfect and separate from all mortal flaws as to be inhuman—better than human—not susceptible to sin or worry. As I had those thoughts, she turned the conversation to my London trip; I was relieved that she knew—from Mrs. Fairfax—only of the carriage purchase, nothing more.

“You must see the carriage, Jane, and tell me if you don’t think it will suit Mrs. Rochester exactly; and whether she won’t look like Queen Boadicea, leaning back against those purple cushions. I wish, Jane, I were a trifle better adapted to match with her externally. Tell me now, fairy as you are,—can’t you give me a charm, or a philter, or something of that sort, to make me a handsome man?” I could not help but grin at her, for of course the Mrs. Rochester I was hoping for was Jane herself. She did not believe herself beautiful, I knew, and she did not seem to understand that a loving eye is all the charm needed for beauty.

“It would be past the power of magic, sir,” was all she said, and despite the insult I found my heart soaring at my little friend’s familiar serious honesty, her refusal to flatter. Now that Jane was back to me, I had only to try to convince her that she was my destiny, and I hers.

I sent her on her way and she began to obey, but she turned back, suddenly, and I saw emotion storm across her face as she uttered the words that would change my life: “Wherever you are is my home,” she said, “my only home.” Before I could speak, she was gone.

There it was. She knew she belonged to me as completely as I to her. I could not contain my heart: now I felt sure she would choose to be with me, as soon as I was free to make her the offer.





As soon as I could after Jane’s return, I sent a message to Everson, asking him to meet me at Carter’s home one evening a few days hence, and I sent another to Carter, requesting him to host a gathering of the three of us. Now that I believed Jane loved me, that I was her “home,” I was determined to free myself of Bertha, not just physically, but legally. I could not dream of dragging Jane into the disgusting situation in which I found myself. I had been tricked into a marriage without knowing my betrothed’s full story, and to bring Jane into an alliance with me would commit the same offense to her.

Since I could not bring myself to tell Jane of Bertha, I would simply rid myself of Bertha before the need arose. There was only one recourse that I could imagine, one that I had once discarded as extremely difficult and unlikely. But I had been young then, and hopeful that life would work out well for me. Now I was more experienced, and more cynical.

Both men were seated before Carter’s fire when I arrived, and they stood to greet me. Carter called for more brandy, and I sat with them.