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1"That--if a genuine document--may prove I have been married, but it does not prove that the woman mentioned therein as
2my wife is still living." "She was living three months ago," returned the lawyer. "How do you know?" "I have a witness
3to the fact, whose testimony even you, sir, will scarcely controvert." "Produce him--or go to hell." "I will produce him
4first--he is on the spot. Mr. Mason, have the goodness to step forward." Mr. Rochester, on hearing the name, set his
5teeth; he experienced, too, a sort of strong convulsive quiver; near to him as I was, I felt the spasmodic movement of
6fury or despair run through his frame. The second stranger, who had hitherto lingered in the background, now drew near;
7a pale face looked over the solicitor's shoulder--yes, it was Mason himself. Mr. Rochester turned and glared at him. His
8eye, as I have often said, was a black eye: it had now a tawny, nay, a bloody light in its gloom; and his face
9flushed--olive cheek and hueless forehead received a glow as from spreading, ascending heart-fire: and he stirred,
10lifted his strong arm--he could have struck Mason, dashed him on the church-floor, shocked by ruthless blow the breath
11from his body--but Mason shrank away, and cried faintly, "Good God!" Contempt fell cool on Mr. Rochester--his passion
12died as if a blight had shrivelled it up: he only asked--"What have you to say?" An inaudible reply escaped Mason's
13white lips. "The devil is in it if you cannot answer distinctly. I again demand, what have you to say?" "Sir--sir,"
14interrupted the clergyman, "do not forget you are in a sacred place." Then addressing Mason, he inquired gently, "Are
15you aware, sir, whether or not this gentleman's wife is still living?" "Courage," urged the lawyer,--"speak out." "She
16is now living at Thornfield Hall," said Mason, in more articulate tones: "I saw her there last April. I am her brother."
17"At Thornfield Hall!" ejaculated the clergyman. "Impossible! I am an old resident in this neighbourhood, sir, and I
18never heard of a Mrs. Rochester at Thornfield Hall." I saw a grim smile contort Mr. Rochester's lips, and he muttered--
19"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
20counsel with himself: he formed his resolve, and announced it-- "Enough! all shall bolt out at once, like the bullet
21from the barrel. Wood, close your book and take off your surplice; John Green (to the clerk), leave the church: there
22will be no wedding to-day." The man obeyed. Mr. Rochester continued, hardily and recklessly: "Bigamy is an ugly word!--I
23meant, however, to be a bigamist; but fate has out-manoeuvred me, or Providence has checked me,--perhaps the last. I am
24little better than a devil at this moment; and, as my pastor there would tell me, deserve no doubt the sternest
25judgments of God, even to the quenchless fire and deathless worm. Gentlemen, my plan is broken up:--what this lawyer and
26his client say is true: I have been married, and the woman to whom I was married lives! You say you never heard of a
27Mrs. Rochester at the house up yonder, Wood; but I daresay you have many a time inclined your ear to gossip about the
28mysterious lunatic kept there under watch and ward. Some have whispered to you that she is my bastard half-sister: some,
29my cast-off mistress. I now inform you that she is my wife, whom I married fifteen years ago,--Bertha Mason by name;
30sister of this resolute personage, who is now, with his quivering limbs and white cheeks, showing you what a stout heart
31men may bear. Cheer up, Dick!--never fear me!--I'd almost as soon strike a woman as you. Bertha Mason is mad; and she
32came of a mad family; idiots and maniacs through three generations! Her mother, the Creole, was both a madwoman and a
33drunkard!--as I found out after I had wed the daughter: for they were silent on family secrets before. Bertha, like a
34dutiful child, copied her parent in both points. I had a charming partner--pure, wise, modest: you can fancy I was a
35happy man. I went through rich scenes! Oh! my experience has been heavenly, if you only knew it! But I owe you no
36further explanation. Briggs, Wood, Mason, I invite you all to come up to the house and visit Mrs. Poole's patient, and
37my wife! You shall see what sort of a being I was cheated into espousing, and judge whether or not I had a right to
38break the compact, and seek sympathy with something at least human. This girl," he continued, looking at me, "knew no
39more than you, Wood, of the disgusting secret: she thought all was fair and legal; and never dreamt she was going to be
40entrapped into a feigned union with a defrauded wretch, already bound to a bad, mad, and embruted partner! Come all of
41you--follow!" Still holding me fast, he left the church: the three gentlemen came after. At the front door of the hall
42we found the carriage. "Take it back to the coach-house, John," said Mr. Rochester coolly; "it will not be wanted
43to-day." At our entrance, Mrs. Fairfax, Adèle, Sophie, Leah, advanced to meet and greet us. "To the right-about--every
44soul!" cried the master; "away with your congratulations! Who wants them? Not I!--they are fifteen years too late!" He
45passed on and ascended the stairs, still holding my hand, and still beckoning the gentlemen to follow him, which they
46did. We mounted the first staircase, passed up the gallery, proceeded to the third storey: the low, black door, opened
47by Mr. Rochester's master-key, admitted us to the tapestried room, with its great bed and its pictorial cabinet. "You
48know this place, Mason," said our guide; "she bit and stabbed you here." He lifted the hangings from the wall,
49uncovering the second door: this, too, he opened. In a room without a window, there burnt a fire guarded by a high and
50strong fender, and a lamp suspended from the ceiling by a chain. Grace Poole bent over the fire, apparently cooking
51something in a saucepan. In the deep shade, at the farther end of the room, a figure ran backwards and forwards. What it
52was, whether beast or human being, one could not, at first sight, tell: it grovelled, seemingly, on all fours; it
53snatched and growled like some strange wild animal: but it was covered with clothing, and a quantity of dark, grizzled
54hair, wild as a mane, hid its head and face. "Good-morrow, Mrs. Poole!" said Mr. Rochester. "How are you? and how is
55your charge to-day?" "We're tolerable, sir, I thank you," replied Grace, lifting the boiling mess carefully on to the
56hob: "rather snappish, but not 'rageous." A fierce cry seemed to give the lie to her favourable report: the clothed
57hyena rose up, and stood tall on its hind-feet. "Ah! sir, she sees you!" exclaimed Grace: "you'd better not stay." "Only
58a few moments, Grace: you must allow me a few moments." "Take care then, sir!--for God's sake, take care!" The maniac
59bellowed: she parted her shaggy locks from her visage, and gazed wildly at her visitors. I recognised well that purple
60face,--those bloated features. Mrs. Poole advanced. "Keep out of the way," said Mr. Rochester, thrusting her aside: "she
61has no knife now, I suppose, and I'm on my guard." "One never knows what she has, sir: she is so cunning: it is not in
62mortal discretion to fathom her craft." "We had better leave her," whispered Mason. "Go to the devil!" was his
63brother-in-law's recommendation. "'Ware!" cried Grace. The three gentlemen retreated simultaneously. Mr. Rochester flung
64me behind him: the lunatic sprang and grappled his throat viciously, and laid her teeth to his cheek: they struggled.
65She was a big woman, in stature almost equalling her husband, and corpulent besides: she showed virile force in the
66contest--more than once she almost throttled him, athletic as he was. He could have settled her with a well-planted
67blow; but he would not strike: he would only wrestle. At last he mastered her arms; Grace Poole gave him a cord, and he
68pinioned them behind her: with more rope, which was at hand, he bound her to a chair. The operation was performed amidst
69the fiercest yells and the most convulsive plunges. Mr. Rochester then turned to the spectators: he looked at them with
70a smile both acrid and desolate.
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