A splendid Midsummer shone over England: skies so pure, suns soradiant as were then seen in long succession, seldom favour evensingly, our wave-girt land. It was as if a band of Italian days hadcome from the South, like a flock of glorious passenger birds, andlighted to rest them on the cliffs of Albion. The hay was all gotin; the fields round Thornfield were green and shorn; the roadswhite and baked; the trees were in their dark prime; hedge and wood,full-leaved and deeply tinted, contrasted well with the sunny hue ofthe cleared meadows between.

On Midsummer-eve, Adele, weary with gathering wild strawberries inHay Lane half the day, had gone to bed with the sun. I watched herdrop asleep, and when I left her, I sought the garden.

It was now the sweetest hour of the twenty-four:- "Day its fervidfires had wasted," and dew fell cool on panting plain and scorchedsummit. Where the sun had gone down in simple state--pure of thepomp of clouds--spread a solemn purple, burning with the light ofred jewel and furnace flame at one point, on one hill-peak, andextending high and wide, soft and still softer, over half heaven.The east had its own charm or fine deep blue, and its own modestgem, a casino and solitary star: soon it would boast the moon; butshe was yet beneath the horizon.

I walked a while on the pavement; but a subtle, well-known scent--that of a cigar--stole from some window; I saw the library casementopen a handbreadth; I knew I might be watched thence; so I wentapart into the orchard. No nook in the grounds more sheltered andmore Eden-like; it was full of trees, it bloomed with flowers: avery high wall shut it out from the court, on one side; on theother, a beech avenue screened it from the lawn. At the bottom wasa sunk fence; its sole separation from lonely fields: a windingwalk, bordered with laurels and terminating in a giant horse-chestnut, circled at the base by a seat, led down to the fence.Here one could wander unseen. While such honey-dew fell, suchsilence reigned, such gloaming gathered, I felt as if I could hauntsuch shade for ever; but in threading the flower and fruit parterresat the upper part of the enclosure, enticed there by the light thenow rising moon cast on this more open quarter, my step is stayed--not by sound, not by sight, but once more by a warning fragrance.

Sweet-briar and southernwood, jasmine, pink, and rose have long beenyielding their evening sacrifice of incense: this new scent isneither of shrub nor flower; it is--I know it well--it is Mr.Rochester's cigar. I look round and I listen. I see trees ladenwith ripening fruit. I hear a nightingale warbling in a wood half amile off; no moving form is visible, no coming step audible; butthat perfume increases: I must flee. I make for the wicket leadingto the shrubbery, and I see Mr. Rochester entering. I step asideinto the ivy recess; he will not stay long: he will soon returnwhence he came, and if I sit still he will never see me.

But no--eventide is as pleasant to him as to me, and this antiquegarden as attractive; and he strolls on, now lifting the gooseberry-tree branches to look at the fruit, large as plums, with which theyare laden; now taking a ripe cherry from the wall; now stoopingtowards a knot of flowers, either to inhale their fragrance or toadmire the dew-beads on their petals. A great moth goes humming byme; it alights on a plant at Mr. Rochester's foot: he sees it, andbends to examine it.

"Now, he has his back towards me," thought I, "and he is occupiedtoo; perhaps, if I walk softly, I can slip away unnoticed."

I trode on an edging of turf that the crackle of the pebbly gravelmight not betray me: he was standing among the beds at a yard ortwo distant from where I had to pass; the moth apparently engagedhim. "I shall get by very well," I meditated. As I crossed hisshadow, thrown long over the garden by the moon, not yet risen high,he said quietly, without turning -

"Jane, come and look at this fellow."

I had made no noise: he had not eyes behind--could his shadow feel?I started at first, and then I approached him.

"Look at his wings," said he, "he reminds me rather of a West Indianinsect; one does not often see so large and gay a night-rover inEngland; there! he is flown."

The moth roamed away. I was sheepishly retreating also; but Mr.Rochester followed me, and when we reached the wicket, he said -

"Turn back: on so lovely a night it is a shame to sit in the house;and surely no one can wish to go to bed while sunset is thus atmeeting with moonrise."

It is one of my faults, that though my tongue is sometimes promptenough at an answer, there are times when it sadly fails me inframing an excuse; and always the lapse occurs at some crisis, whena facile word or plausible pretext is specially wanted to get me outof painful embarrassment. I did not like to walk at this hour alonewith Mr. Rochester in the shadowy orchard; but I could not find areason to allege for leaving him. I followed with lagging step, andthoughts busily bent on discovering a means of extrication; but hehimself looked so composed and so grave also, I became ashamed offeeling any confusion: the evil--if evil existent or prospectivethere was--seemed to lie with me only; his mind was unconscious andquiet.

"Jane," he recommenced, as we entered the laurel walk, and slowlystrayed down in the direction of the sunk fence and the horse-chestnut, "Thornfield is a pleasant place in summer, is it not?"

"Yes, sir."

"You must have become in some degree attached to the house,--you,who have an eye for natural beauties, and a good deal of the organof Adhesiveness?"

"I am attached to it, indeed."

"And though I don't comprehend how it is, I perceive you haveacquired a degree of regard for that foolish little child Adele,too; and even for simple dame Fairfax?"

"Yes, sir; in different ways, I have an affection for both."

"And would be sorry to part with them?"

"Yes."

"Pity!" he said, and sighed and paused. "It is always the way ofevents in this life," he continued presently: "no sooner have yougot settled in a pleasant resting-place, than a voice calls out toyou to rise and move on, for the hour of repose is expired."

"Must I move on, sir?" I asked. "Must I leave Thornfield?"

"I believe you must, Jane. I am sorry, Janet, but I believe indeedyou must."

This was a blow: but I did not let it prostrate me.

"Well, sir, I shall be ready when the order to march comes."

"It is come now--I must give it to-night."

"Then you ARE going to be married, sir?"

"Ex-act-ly--pre-cise-ly: with your usual acuteness, you have hitthe nail straight on the head."

"Soon, sir?"

"Very soon, my--that is, Miss Eyre: and you'll remember, Jane, thefirst time I, or Rumour, plainly intimated to you that it was myintention to put my old bachelor's neck into the sacred noose, toenter into the holy estate of matrimony--to take Miss Ingram to mybosom, in short (she's an extensive armful: but that's not to thepoint--one can't have too much of such a very excellent thing as mybeautiful Blanche): well, as I was saying--listen to me, Jane!You're not turning your head to look after more moths, are you?That was only a lady-clock, child, 'flying away home.' I wish toremind you that it was you who first said to me, with thatdiscretion I respect in you--with that foresight, prudence, andhumility which befit your responsible and dependent position--thatin case I married Miss Ingram, both you and little Adele had bettertrot forthwith. I pass over the sort of slur conveyed in thissuggestion on the character of my beloved; indeed, when you are faraway, Janet, I'll try to forget it: I shall notice only its wisdom;which is such that I have made it my law of action. Adele must goto school; and you, Miss Eyre, must get a new situation."

"Yes, sir, I will advertise immediately: and meantime, I suppose--"I was going to say, "I suppose I may stay here, till I find anothershelter to betake myself to:" but I stopped, feeling it would not doto risk a long sentence, for my voice was not quite under command.

"In about a month I hope to be a bridegroom," continued Mr.Rochester; "and in the interim, I shall myself look out foremployment and an asylum for you."

"Thank you, sir; I am sorry to give--"

"Oh, no need to apologise! I consider that when a dependent doesher duty as well as you have done yours, she has a sort of claimupon her employer for any little assistance he can convenientlyrender her; indeed I have already, through my future mother-in-law,heard of a place that I think will suit: it is to undertake theeducation of the five daughters of Mrs. Dionysius O'Gall ofBitternutt Lodge, Connaught, Ireland. You'll like Ireland, I think:they're such warm-hearted people there, they say."

"It is a long way off, sir."

"No matter--a girl of your sense will not object to the voyage orthe distance."

"Not the voyage, but the distance: and then the sea is a barrier--"

"From what, Jane?"

"From England and from Thornfield: and--"

"Well?"

"From YOU, sir."

I said this almost involuntarily, and, with as little sanction offree will, my tears gushed out. I did not cry so as to be heard,however; I avoided sobbing. The thought of Mrs. O'Gall andBitternutt Lodge struck cold to my heart; and colder the thought ofall the brine and foam, destined, as it seemed, to rush between meand the master at whose side I now walked, and coldest theremembrance of the wider ocean--wealth, caste, custom intervenedbetween me and what I naturally and inevitably loved.

"It is a long way," I again said.

"It is, to be sure; and when you get to Bitternutt Lodge, Connaught,Ireland, I shall never see you again, Jane: that's morally certain.I never go over to Ireland, not having myself much of a fancy forthe country. We have been good friends, Jane; have we not?"

"Yes, sir."

"And when friends are on the eve of separation, they like to spendthe little time that remains to them close to each other. Come!we'll talk over the voyage and the parting quietly half-an-hour orso, while the stars enter into their shining life up in heavenyonder: here is the chestnut tree: here is the bench at its oldroots. Come, we will sit there in peace to-night, though we shouldnever more be destined to sit there together." He seated me andhimself.

"It is a long way to Ireland, Janet, and I am sorry to send mylittle friend on such weary travels: but if I can't do better, howis it to be helped? Are you anything akin to me, do you think,Jane?"

I could risk no sort of answer by this time: my heart was still.

"Because," he said, "I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard toyou--especially when you are near me, as now: it is as if I had astring somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricablyknotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter ofyour little frame. And if that boisterous Channel, and two hundredmiles or so of land come broad between us, I am afraid that cord ofcommunion will be snapt; and then I've a nervous notion I shouldtake to bleeding inwardly. As for you,--you'd forget me."

"That I NEVER should, sir: you know--" Impossible to proceed.

"Jane, do you hear that nightingale singing in the wood? Listen!"

In listening, I sobbed convulsively; for I could repress what Iendured no longer; I was obliged to yield, and I was shaken fromhead to foot with acute distress. When I did speak, it was only toexpress an impetuous wish that I had never been born, or never cometo Thornfield.

"Because you are sorry to leave it?"

The vehemence of emotion, stirred by grief and love within me, wasclaiming mastery, and struggling for full sway, and asserting aright to predominate, to overcome, to live, rise, and reign at last:yes,--and to speak.

"I grieve to leave Thornfield: I love Thornfield:- I love it,because I have lived in it a full and delightful life,--momentarilyat least. I have not been trampled on. I have not been petrified.I have not been buried with inferior minds, and excluded from everyglimpse of communion with what is bright and energetic and high. Ihave talked, face to face, with what I reverence, with what Idelight in,--with an original, a vigorous, an expanded mind. I haveknown you, Mr. Rochester; and it strikes me with terror and anguishto feel I absolutely must be torn from you for ever. I see thenecessity of departure; and it is like looking on the necessity ofdeath."

"Where do you see the necessity?" he asked suddenly.

"Where? You, sir, have placed it before me."

"In what shape?"

"In the shape of Miss Ingram; a noble and beautiful woman,--yourbride."

"My bride! What bride? I have no bride!"

"But you will have."

"Yes;--I will!--I will!" He set his teeth.

"Then I must go:- you have said it yourself."

"No: you must stay! I swear it--and the oath shall be kept."

"I tell you I must go!" I retorted, roused to something likepassion. "Do you think I can stay to become nothing to you? Do youthink I am an automaton?--a machine without feelings? and can bearto have my morsel of bread snatched from my lips, and my drop ofliving water dashed from my cup? Do you think, because I am poor,obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless? You thinkwrong!--I have as much soul as you,--and full as much heart! And ifGod had gifted me with some beauty and much wealth, I should havemade it as hard for you to leave me, as it is now for me to leaveyou. I am not talking to you now through the medium of custom,conventionalities, nor even of mortal flesh;--it is my spirit thataddresses your spirit; just as if both had passed through the grave,and we stood at God's feet, equal,--as we are!"

"As we are!" repeated Mr. Rochester--"so," he added, enclosing me inhis arms. Gathering me to his breast, pressing his lips on my lips:"so, Jane!"

"Yes, so, sir," I rejoined: "and yet not so; for you are a marriedman--or as good as a married man, and wed to one inferior to you--toone with whom you have no sympathy--whom I do not believe you trulylove; for I have seen and heard you sneer at her. I would scornsuch a union: therefore I am better than you--let me go!"

"Where, Jane? To Ireland?"

"Yes--to Ireland. I have spoken my mind, and can go anywhere now."

"Jane, be still; don't struggle so, like a wild frantic bird that isrending its own plumage in its desperation."

"I am no bird; and no net ensnares me; I am a free human being withan independent will, which I now exert to leave you."

Another effort set me at liberty, and I stood erect before him.

"And your will shall decide your destiny," he said: "I offer you myhand, my heart, and a share of all my possessions."

"You play a farce, which I merely laugh at."

"I ask you to pass through life at my side--to be my second self,and best earthly companion."

"For that fate you have already made your choice, and must abide byit."

"Jane, be still a few moments: you are over-excited: I will bestill too."

A waft of wind came sweeping down the laurel-walk, and trembledthrough the boughs of the chestnut: it wandered away--away--to anindefinite distance--it died. The nightingale's song was then theonly voice of the hour: in listening to it, I again wept. Mr.Rochester sat quiet, looking at me gently and seriously. Some timepassed before he spoke; he at last said -

"Come to my side, Jane, and let us explain and understand oneanother."

"I will never again come to your side: I am torn away now, andcannot return."

"But, Jane, I summon you as my wife: it is you only I intend tomarry."

I was silent: I thought he mocked me.

"Come, Jane--come hither."

"Your bride stands between us."

He rose, and with a stride reached me.

"My bride is here," he said, again drawing me to him, "because myequal is here, and my likeness. Jane, will you marry me?"

Still I did not answer, and still I writhed myself from his grasp:for I was still incredulous.

"Do you doubt me, Jane?"

"Entirely."

"You have no faith in me?"

"Not a whit."

"Am I a liar in your eyes?" he asked passionately. "Little sceptic,you SHALL be convinced. What love have I for Miss Ingram? None:and that you know. What love has she for me? None: as I havetaken pains to prove: I caused a rumour to reach her that myfortune was not a third of what was supposed, and after that Ipresented myself to see the result; it was coldness both from herand her mother. I would not--I could not--marry Miss Ingram. You--you strange, you almost unearthly thing!--I love as my own flesh.You--poor and obscure, and small and plain as you are--I entreat toaccept me as a husband."

"What, me!" I ejaculated, beginning in his earnestness--andespecially in his incivility--to credit his sincerity: "me who havenot a friend in the world but you- if you are my friend: not ashilling but what you have given me?"

"You, Jane, I must have you for my own--entirely my own. Will yoube mine? Say yes, quickly."

"Mr. Rochester, let me look at your face: turn to the moonlight."

"Why?"

"Because I want to read your countenance--turn!"

"There! you will find it scarcely more legible than a crumpled,scratched page. Read on: only make haste, for I suffer."

His face was very much agitated and very much flushed, and therewere strong workings in the features, and strange gleams in the eyes

"Oh, Jane, you torture me!" he exclaimed. "With that searching andyet faithful and generous look, you torture me!"

"How can I do that? If you are true, and your offer real, my onlyfeelings to you must be gratitude and devotion--they cannottorture."

"Gratitude!" he ejaculated; and added wildly--"Jane accept mequickly. Say, Edward--give me my name--Edward--I will marry you."

"Are you in earnest? Do you truly love me? Do you sincerely wishme to be your wife?"

"I do; and if an oath is necessary to satisfy you, I swear it."

"Then, sir, I will marry you."

"Edward--my little wife!"

"Dear Edward!"

"Come to me--come to me entirely now," said he; and added, in hisdeepest tone, speaking in my ear as his cheek was laid on mine,"Make my happiness--I will make yours."

"God pardon me!" he subjoined ere long; "and man meddle not with me:I have her, and will hold her."

"There is no one to meddle, sir. I have no kindred to interfere."

"No--that is the best of it," he said. And if I had loved him lessI should have thought his accent and look of exultation savage; but,sitting by him, roused from the nightmare of parting--called to theparadise of union--I thought only of the bliss given me to drink inso abundant a flow. Again and again he said, "Are you happy, Jane?"And again and again I answered, "Yes." After which he murmured, "Itwill atone--it will atone. Have I not found her friendless, andcold, and comfortless? Will I not guard, and cherish, and solaceher? Is there not love in my heart, and constancy in my resolves?It will expiate at God's tribunal. I know my Maker sanctions what Ido. For the world's judgment--I wash my hands thereof. For man'sopinion--I defy it."

But what had befallen the night? The moon was not yet set, and wewere all in shadow: I could scarcely see my master's face, near asI was. And what ailed the chestnut tree? it writhed and groaned;while wind roared in the laurel walk, and came sweeping over us.

"We must go in," said Mr. Rochester: "the weather changes. I couldhave sat with thee till morning, Jane."

"And so," thought I, "could I with you." I should have said so,perhaps, but a livid, vivid spark leapt out of a cloud at which Iwas looking, and there was a crack, a crash, and a close rattlingpeal; and I thought only of hiding my dazzled eyes against Mr.Rochester's shoulder.

The rain rushed down. He hurried me up the walk, through thegrounds, and into the house; but we were quite wet before we couldpass the threshold. He was taking off my shawl in the hall, andshaking the water out of my loosened hair, when Mrs. Fairfax emergedfrom her room. I did not observe her at first, nor did Mr.Rochester. The lamp was lit. The clock was on the stroke oftwelve.

"Hasten to take off your wet things," said he; "and before you go,good-night--good-night, my darling!"

He kissed me repeatedly. When I looked up, on leaving his arms,there stood the widow, pale, grave, and amazed. I only smiled ather, and ran upstairs. "Explanation will do for another time,"thought I. Still, when I reached my chamber, I felt a pang at theidea she should even temporarily misconstrue what she had seen. Butjoy soon effaced every other feeling; and loud as the wind blew,near and deep as the thunder crashed, fierce and frequent as thelightning gleamed, cataract-like as the rain fell during a storm oftwo hours' duration, I experienced no fear and little awe. Mr.Rochester came thrice to my door in the course of it, to ask if Iwas safe and tranquil: and that was comfort, that was strength foranything.

Before I left my bed in the morning, little Adele came running in totell me that the great horse-chestnut at the bottom of the orchardhad been struck by lightning in the night, and half of it splitaway.