"Don't talk any more of those days, sir," I interrupted, furtively
dashing away some tears from my eyes; his language was torture to
me; for I knew what I must do--and do soon--and all these
reminiscences, and these revelations of his feelings only made my
work more difficult.
"No, Jane," he returned: "what necessity is there to dwell on the
Past, when the Present is so much surer--the Future so much
brighter?"
I shuddered to hear the infatuated assertion.
"You see now how the case stands--do you not?" he continued. "After
a youth and manhood passed half in unutterable misery and half in
dreary solitude, I have for the first time found what I can truly
love--I have found you. You are my sympathy--my better self--my
good angel. I am bound to you with a strong attachment. I think
you good, gifted, lovely: a fervent, a solemn passion is conceived
in my heart; it leans to you, draws you to my centre and spring of
life, wraps my existence about you, and, kindling in pure, powerful
flame, fuses you and me in one.
"It was because I felt and knew this, that I resolved to marry you.
To tell me that I had already a wife is empty mockery: you know now
that I had but a hideous demon. I was wrong to attempt to deceive
you; but I feared a stubbornness that exists in your character. I
feared early instilled prejudice: I wanted to have you safe before
hazarding confidences. This was cowardly: I should have appealed
to your nobleness and magnanimity at first, as I do now--opened to
you plainly my life of agony--described to you my hunger and thirst
after a higher and worthier existence--shown to you, not my
RESOLUTION (that word is weak), but my resistless BENT to love
faithfully and well, where I am faithfully and well loved in return.
Then I should have asked you to accept my pledge of fidelity and to
give me yours. Jane--give it me now."
A pause.
"Why are you silent, Jane?"
I was experiencing an ordeal: a hand of fiery iron grasped my
vitals. Terrible moment: full of struggle, blackness, burning!
Not a human being that ever lived could wish to be loved better than
I was loved; and him who thus loved me I absolutely worshipped: and
I must renounce love and idol. One drear word comprised my
intolerable duty--"Depart!"
"Jane, you understand what I want of you? Just this promise--'I
will be yours, Mr. Rochester.'"
"Mr. Rochester, I will NOT be yours."