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1"Pity, Jane, from some people is a noxious and insulting sort of tribute, which one is justified in hurling back in the
2teeth of those who offer it; but that is the sort of pity native to callous, selfish hearts; it is a hybrid, egotistical
3pain at hearing of woes, crossed with ignorant contempt for those who have endured them. But that is not your pity,
4Jane; it is not the feeling of which your whole face is full at this moment--with which your eyes are now almost
5overflowing--with which your heart is heaving--with which your hand is trembling in mine. Your pity, my darling, is the
6suffering mother of love: its anguish is the very natal pang of the divine passion. I accept it, Jane; let the daughter
7have free advent--my arms wait to receive her." "Now, sir, proceed; what did you do when you found she was mad?" "Jane,
8I approached the verge of despair; a remnant of self-respect was all that intervened between me and the gulf. In the
9eyes of the world, I was doubtless covered with grimy dishonour; but I resolved to be clean in my own sight--and to the
10last I repudiated the contamination of her crimes, and wrenched myself from connection with her mental defects. Still,
11society associated my name and person with hers; I yet saw her and heard her daily: something of her breath (faugh!)
12mixed with the air I breathed; and besides, I remembered I had once been her husband--that recollection was then, and is
13now, inexpressibly odious to me; moreover, I knew that while she lived I could never be the husband of another and
14better wife; and, though five years my senior (her family and her father had lied to me even in the particular of her
15age), she was likely to live as long as I, being as robust in frame as she was infirm in mind. Thus, at the age of
16twenty-six, I was hopeless. "One night I had been awakened by her yells--(since the medical men had pronounced her mad,
17she had, of course, been shut up)--it was a fiery West Indian night; one of the description that frequently precede the
18hurricanes of those climates. Being unable to sleep in bed, I got up and opened the window. The air was like
19sulphur-steams--I could find no refreshment anywhere. Mosquitoes came buzzing in and hummed sullenly round the room; the
20sea, which I could hear from thence, rumbled dull like an earthquake--black clouds were casting up over it; the moon was
21setting in the waves, broad and red, like a hot cannon-ball--she threw her last bloody glance over a world quivering
22with the ferment of tempest. I was physically influenced by the atmosphere and scene, and my ears were filled with the
23curses the maniac still shrieked out; wherein she momentarily mingled my name with such a tone of demon-hate, with such
24language!--no professed harlot ever had a fouler vocabulary than she: though two rooms off, I heard every word--the thin
25partitions of the West India house opposing but slight obstruction to her wolfish cries. "'This life,' said I at last,
26'is hell: this is the air--those are the sounds of the bottomless pit! I have a right to deliver myself from it if I
27can. The sufferings of this mortal state will leave me with the heavy flesh that now cumbers my soul. Of the fanatic's
28burning eternity I have no fear: there is not a future state worse than this present one--let me break away, and go home
29to God!' "I said this whilst I knelt down at and unlocked a trunk which contained a brace of loaded pistols: I meant to
30shoot myself. I only entertained the intention for a moment; for, not being insane, the crisis of exquisite and
31unalloyed despair, which had originated the wish and design of self-destruction, was past in a second. "A wind fresh
32from Europe blew over the ocean and rushed through the open casement: the storm broke, streamed, thundered, blazed, and
33the air grew pure. I then framed and fixed a resolution. While I walked under the dripping orange-trees of my wet
34garden, and amongst its drenched pomegranates and pine-apples, and while the refulgent dawn of the tropics kindled round
35me--I reasoned thus, Jane--and now listen; for it was true Wisdom that consoled me in that hour, and showed me the right
36path to follow. "The sweet wind from Europe was still whispering in the refreshed leaves, and the Atlantic was
37thundering in glorious liberty; my heart, dried up and scorched for a long time, swelled to the tone, and filled with
38living blood--my being longed for renewal--my soul thirsted for a pure draught. I saw hope revive--and felt regeneration
39possible. From a flowery arch at the bottom of my garden I gazed over the sea--bluer than the sky: the old world was
40beyond; clear prospects opened thus:-- "'Go,' said Hope, 'and live again in Europe: there it is not known what a sullied
41name you bear, nor what a filthy burden is bound to you. You may take the maniac with you to England; confine her with
42due attendance and precautions at Thornfield: then travel yourself to what clime you will, and form what new tie you
43like. That woman, who has so abused your long-suffering, so sullied your name, so outraged your honour, so blighted your
44youth, is not your wife, nor are you her husband. See that she is cared for as her condition demands, and you have done
45all that God and humanity require of you. Let her identity, her connection with yourself, be buried in oblivion: you are
46bound to impart them to no living being. Place her in safety and comfort: shelter her degradation with secrecy, and
47leave her.' "I acted precisely on this suggestion. My father and brother had not made my marriage known to their
48acquaintance; because, in the very first letter I wrote to apprise them of the union--having already begun to experience
49extreme disgust of its consequences, and, from the family character and constitution, seeing a hideous future opening to
50me--I added an urgent charge to keep
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