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"
You
come
out
at
last
,
"
he
said
.
"
Well
,
I
have
been
waiting
for
you
long
,
and
listening
:
yet
not
one
movement
have
I
heard
,
nor
one
sob
:
five
minutes
more
of
that
death-like
hush
,
and
I
should
have
forced
the
lock
like
a
burglar
.
So
you
shun
me
?
--
you
shut
yourself
up
and
grieve
alone
!
I
would
rather
you
had
come
and
upbraided
me
with
vehemence
.
You
are
passionate
.
I
expected
a
scene
of
some
kind
.
I
was
prepared
for
the
hot
rain
of
tears
;
only
I
wanted
them
to
be
shed
on
my
breast
:
now
a
senseless
floor
has
received
them
,
or
your
drenched
handkerchief
.
But
I
err
:
you
have
not
wept
at
all
!
I
see
a
white
cheek
and
a
faded
eye
,
but
no
trace
of
tears
.
I
suppose
,
then
,
your
heart
has
been
weeping
blood
?
"
"
Well
,
Jane
!
not
a
word
of
reproach
?
Nothing
bitter
--
nothing
poignant
?
Nothing
to
cut
a
feeling
or
sting
a
passion
?
You
sit
quietly
where
I
have
placed
you
,
and
regard
me
with
a
weary
,
passive
look
.
"
"
Jane
,
I
never
meant
to
wound
you
thus
.
If
the
man
who
had
but
one
little
ewe
lamb
that
was
dear
to
him
as
a
daughter
,
that
ate
of
his
bread
and
drank
of
his
cup
,
and
lay
in
his
bosom
,
had
by
some
mistake
slaughtered
it
at
the
shambles
,
he
would
not
have
rued
his
bloody
blunder
more
than
I
now
rue
mine
.
Will
you
ever
forgive
me
?
"
Reader
,
I
forgave
him
at
the
moment
and
on
the
spot
.
There
was
such
deep
remorse
in
his
eye
,
such
true
pity
in
his
tone
,
such
manly
energy
in
his
manner
;
and
besides
,
there
was
such
unchanged
love
in
his
whole
look
and
mien
--
I
forgave
him
all
:
yet
not
in
words
,
not
outwardly
;
only
at
my
heart
's
core
.
"
You
know
I
am
a
scoundrel
,
Jane
?
"
ere
long
he
inquired
wistfully
--
wondering
,
I
suppose
,
at
my
continued
silence
and
tameness
,
the
result
rather
of
weakness
than
of
will
.
"
Yes
,
sir
.
"
"
Then
tell
me
so
roundly
and
sharply
--
do
n't
spare
me
.
"
"
I
can
not
:
I
am
tired
and
sick
.
I
want
some
water
.
"
He
heaved
a
sort
of
shuddering
sigh
,
and
taking
me
in
his
arms
,
carried
me
downstairs
.
At
first
I
did
not
know
to
what
room
he
had
borne
me
;
all
was
cloudy
to
my
glazed
sight
:
presently
I
felt
the
reviving
warmth
of
a
fire
;
for
,
summer
as
it
was
,
I
had
become
icy
cold
in
my
chamber
.
He
put
wine
to
my
lips
;
I
tasted
it
and
revived
;
then
I
ate
something
he
offered
me
,
and
was
soon
myself
.
I
was
in
the
library
--
sitting
in
his
chair
--
he
was
quite
near
.
"
If
I
could
go
out
of
life
now
,
without
too
sharp
a
pang
,
it
would
be
well
for
me
,
"
I
thought
;
"
then
I
should
not
have
to
make
the
effort
of
cracking
my
heart-strings
in
rending
them
from
among
Mr.
Rochester
's
.
I
must
leave
him
,
it
appears
.
I
do
not
want
to
leave
him
--
I
can
not
leave
him
.
"
