"Give me the water, Mary," he said.
I approached him with the now only half-filled glass; Pilot followed
me, still excited.
"What is the matter?" he inquired.
"Down, Pilot!" I again said. He checked the water on its way to his
lips, and seemed to listen: he drank, and put the glass down.
"This is you, Mary, is it not?"
"Mary is in the kitchen," I answered.
He put out his hand with a quick gesture, but not seeing where I
stood, he did not touch me. "Who is this? Who is this?" he
demanded, trying, as it seemed, to SEE with those sightless eyes--
unavailing and distressing attempt! "Answer me--speak again!" he
ordered, imperiously and aloud.
"Will you have a little more water, sir? I spilt half of what was
in the glass," I said.
"WHO is it? WHAT is it? Who speaks?"
"Pilot knows me, and John and Mary know I am here. I came only this
evening," I answered.
"Great God!--what delusion has come over me? What sweet madness has
seized me?"
"No delusion--no madness: your mind, sir, is too strong for
delusion, your health too sound for frenzy."
"And where is the speaker? Is it only a voice? Oh! I CANNOT see,
but I must feel, or my heart will stop and my brain burst.
Whatever--whoever you are--be perceptible to the touch or I cannot
live!"
He groped; I arrested his wandering hand, and prisoned it in both
mine.
"Her very fingers!" he cried; "her small, slight fingers! If so
there must be more of her."
The muscular hand broke from my custody; my arm was seized, my
shoulder--neck--waist--I was entwined and gathered to him.
"Is it Jane? WHAT is it? This is her shape--this is her size--"
"And this her voice," I added. "She is all here: her heart, too.
God bless you, sir! I am glad to be so near you again."
"Jane Eyre!--Jane Eyre," was all he said.
"My dear master," I answered, "I am Jane Eyre: I have found you
out--I am come back to you."
"In truth?--in the flesh? My living Jane?"
"You touch me, sir,--you hold me, and fast enough: I am not cold
like a corpse, nor vacant like air, am I?"
"My living darling! These are certainly her limbs, and these her
features; but I cannot be so blest, after all my misery. It is a
dream; such dreams as I have had at night when I have clasped her
once more to my heart, as I do now; and kissed her, as thus--and
felt that she loved me, and trusted that she would not leave me."