"She had better not wait till then, Jane," said Mr. Rochester, when
I read her letter to him; "if she does, she will be too late, for
our honeymoon will shine our life long: its beams will only fade
over your grave or mine."
How St. John received the news, I don't know: he never answered the
letter in which I communicated it: yet six months after he wrote to
me, without, however, mentioning Mr. Rochester's name or alluding to
my marriage. His letter was then calm, and, though very serious,
kind. He has maintained a regular, though not frequent,
correspondence ever since: he hopes I am happy, and trusts I am not
of those who live without God in the world, and only mind earthly
things.
You have not quite forgotten little Adele, have you, reader? I had
not; I soon asked and obtained leave of Mr. Rochester, to go and see
her at the school where he had placed her. Her frantic joy at
beholding me again moved me much. She looked pale and thin: she
said she was not happy. I found the rules of the establishment were
too strict, its course of study too severe for a child of her age:
I took her home with me. I meant to become her governess once more,
but I soon found this impracticable; my time and cares were now
required by another--my husband needed them all. So I sought out a
school conducted on a more indulgent system, and near enough to
permit of my visiting her often, and bringing her home sometimes. I
took care she should never want for anything that could contribute
to her comfort: she soon settled in her new abode, became very
happy there, and made fair progress in her studies. As she grew up,
a sound English education corrected in a great measure her French
defects; and when she left school, I found in her a pleasing and
obliging companion: docile, good-tempered, and well-principled. By
her grateful attention to me and mine, she has long since well
repaid any little kindness I ever had it in my power to offer her.
My tale draws to its close: one word respecting my experience of
married life, and one brief glance at the fortunes of those whose
names have most frequently recurred in this narrative, and I have
done.
I have now been married ten years. I know what it is to live
entirely for and with what I love best on earth. I hold myself
supremely blest--blest beyond what language can express; because I
am my husband's life as fully is he is mine. No woman was ever
nearer to her mate than I am: ever more absolutely bone of his bone
and flesh of his flesh. I know no weariness of my Edward's society:
he knows none of mine, any more than we each do of the pulsation of
the heart that beats in our separate bosoms; consequently, we are
ever together. To be together is for us to be at once as free as in
solitude, as gay as in company. We talk, I believe, all day long:
to talk to each other is but a more animated and an audible
thinking. All my confidence is bestowed on him, all his confidence
is devoted to me; we are precisely suited in character--perfect
concord is the result.