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I have an inward treasure born with me, which can keep me alive if all extraneous delights should be withheld, or offered only at a price I cannot afford to give.' The forehead declares, 'Reason sits firm and holds the reins, and she will not let the feelings burst away and hurry her to wild chasms.

The passions may rage furiously, like true heathens, as they are; and the desires may imagine all sorts of vain things: but judgment shall still have the last word in every argument, and the casting vote in every decision.

Strong wind, earthquake-shock, and fire may pass by: but I shall follow the guiding of that still small voice which interprets the dictates of conscience.'

"Well said, forehead; your declaration shall be respected.

I have formed my plans-right plans I deem them-and in them I have attended to the claims of conscience, the counsels of reason.

I know how soon youth would fade and bloom perish, if, in the cup of bliss offered, but one dreg of shame, or one flavour of remorse were detected; and I do not want sacrifice, sorrow, dissolution-such is not my taste.

I wish to foster, not to blight-to earn gratitude, not to wring tears of blood-no, nor of brine: my harvest must be in smiles, in endearments, in sweet-That will do.

I think I rave in a kind of exquisite delirium.

I should wish now to protract this moment ad infinitum; but I dare not.

So far I have governed myself thoroughly.

I have acted as I inwardly swore I would act; but further might try me beyond my strength.

Rise, Miss Eyre: leave me; the play is played out'."

Where was I? Did I wake or sleep? Had I been dreaming? Did I dream still? The old woman's voice had changed: her accent, her gesture, and all were familiar to me as my own face in a glass-as the speech of my own tongue.

I got up, but did not go.

I looked; I stirred the fire, and I looked again: but she drew her bonnet and her bandage closer about her face, and again beckoned me to depart.

The flame illuminated her hand stretched out: roused now, and on the alert for discoveries, I at once noticed that hand.

It was no more the withered limb of eld than my own; it was a rounded supple member, with smooth fingers, symmetrically turned; a broad ring flashed on the little finger, and stooping forward, I looked at it, and saw a gem I had seen a hundred times before.

Again I looked at the face; which was no longer turned from me-on the contrary, the bonnet was doffed, the bandage displaced, the head advanced.

"Well, Jane, do you know me?" asked the familiar voice.

"Only take off the red cloak, sir, and then-"

"But the string is in a knot-help me."

"Break it, sir."

"There, then-'Off, ye lendings!'" And Mr. Rochester stepped out of his disguise.

"Now, sir, what a strange idea!"

"But well carried out, eh? Don't you think so?"

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