Jane Eyre - Page 235/412

"I will make the world acknowledge you a beauty, too," he went on,

while I really became uneasy at the strain he had adopted, because I

felt he was either deluding himself or trying to delude me. "I will

attire my Jane in satin and lace, and she shall have roses in her

hair; and I will cover the head I love best with a priceless veil."

"And then you won't know me, sir; and I shall not be your Jane Eyre

any longer, but an ape in a harlequin's jacket--a jay in borrowed

plumes. I would as soon see you, Mr. Rochester, tricked out in

stage-trappings, as myself clad in a court-lady's robe; and I don't

call you handsome, sir, though I love you most dearly: far too

dearly to flatter you. Don't flatter me."

He pursued his theme, however, without noticing my deprecation.

"This very day I shall take you in the carriage to Millcote, and you

must choose some dresses for yourself. I told you we shall be

married in four weeks. The wedding is to take place quietly, in the

church down below yonder; and then I shall waft you away at once to

town. After a brief stay there, I shall bear my treasure to regions

nearer the sun: to French vineyards and Italian plains; and she

shall see whatever is famous in old story and in modern record: she

shall taste, too, of the life of cities; and she shall learn to

value herself by just comparison with others."

"Shall I travel?--and with you, sir?"

"You shall sojourn at Paris, Rome, and Naples: at Florence, Venice,

and Vienna: all the ground I have wandered over shall be re-trodden

by you: wherever I stamped my hoof, your sylph's foot shall step

also. Ten years since, I flew through Europe half mad; with

disgust, hate, and rage as my companions: now I shall revisit it

healed and cleansed, with a very angel as my comforter."

I laughed at him as he said this. "I am not an angel," I asserted;

"and I will not be one till I die: I will be myself. Mr.

Rochester, you must neither expect nor exact anything celestial of

me--for you will not get it, any more than I shall get it of you:

which I do not at all anticipate."

"What do you anticipate of me?"

"For a little while you will perhaps be as you are now,--a very

little while; and then you will turn cool; and then you will be

capricious; and then you will be stern, and I shall have much ado to

please you: but when you get well used to me, you will perhaps like

me again,--LIKE me, I say, not LOVE me. I suppose your love will

effervesce in six months, or less. I have observed in books written

by men, that period assigned as the farthest to which a husband's

ardour extends. Yet, after all, as a friend and companion, I hope

never to become quite distasteful to my dear master."