"The devil is in it if you cannot answer distinctly. I again
demand, what have you to say?"
"Sir--sir," interrupted the clergyman, "do not forget you are in a
sacred place." Then addressing Mason, he inquired gently, "Are you
aware, sir, whether or not this gentleman's wife is still living?"
"Courage," urged the lawyer,--"speak out."
"She is now living at Thornfield Hall," said Mason, in more
articulate tones: "I saw her there last April. I am her brother."
"At Thornfield Hall!" ejaculated the clergyman. "Impossible! I am
an old resident in this neighbourhood, sir, and I never heard of a
Mrs. Rochester at Thornfield Hall."
I saw a grim smile contort Mr. Rochester's lips, and he muttered "No, by God! I took care that none should hear of it--or of her
under that name." He mused--for ten minutes he held counsel with
himself: he formed his resolve, and announced it "Enough! all shall bolt out at once, like the bullet from the
barrel. Wood, close your book and take off your surplice; John
Green (to the clerk), leave the church: there will be no wedding
to-day." The man obeyed.
Mr. Rochester continued, hardily and recklessly: "Bigamy is an ugly
word!--I meant, however, to be a bigamist; but fate has out-
manoeuvred me, or Providence has checked me,--perhaps the last. I
am little better than a devil at this moment; and, as my pastor
there would tell me, deserve no doubt the sternest judgments of God,
even to the quenchless fire and deathless worm. Gentlemen, my plan
is broken up:- what this lawyer and his client say is true: I have
been married, and the woman to whom I was married lives! You say
you never heard of a Mrs. Rochester at the house up yonder, Wood;
but I daresay you have many a time inclined your ear to gossip about
the mysterious lunatic kept there under watch and ward. Some have
whispered to you that she is my bastard half-sister: some, my cast-
off mistress. I now inform you that she is my wife, whom I married
fifteen years ago,--Bertha Mason by name; sister of this resolute
personage, who is now, with his quivering limbs and white cheeks,
showing you what a stout heart men may bear. Cheer up, Dick!--never
fear me!--I'd almost as soon strike a woman as you. Bertha Mason is
mad; and she came of a mad family; idiots and maniacs through three
generations? Her mother, the Creole, was both a madwoman and a
drunkard!--as I found out after I had wed the daughter: for they
were silent on family secrets before. Bertha, like a dutiful child,
copied her parent in both points. I had a charming partner--pure,
wise, modest: you can fancy I was a happy man. I went through rich
scenes! Oh! my experience has been heavenly, if you only knew it!
But I owe you no further explanation. Briggs, Wood, Mason, I invite
you all to come up to the house and visit Mrs. Poole's patient, and
MY WIFE! You shall see what sort of a being I was cheated into
espousing, and judge whether or not I had a right to break the
compact, and seek sympathy with something at least human. This
girl," he continued, looking at me, "knew no more than you, Wood, of
the disgusting secret: she thought all was fair and legal and never
dreamt she was going to be entrapped into a feigned union with a
defrauded wretch, already bound to a bad, mad, and embruted partner!
Come all of you--follow!"