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"Yes; but the time is of no consequence: what followed is the strange point. You will think me superstitious,-some superstition I have in my blood, and always had: nevertheless, this is true-true at least it is that I heard what I now relate.

"As I exclaimed 'Jane! Jane! Jane!' a voice-I cannot tell whence the voice came, but I know whose voice it was-replied, 'I am coming: wait for me;' and a moment after, went whispering on the wind the words-'Where are you?'

"I'll tell you, if I can, the idea, the picture these words opened to my mind: yet it is difficult to express what I want to express.

Ferndean is buried, as you see, in a heavy wood, where sound falls dull, and dies unreverberating.

Where are you?' seemed spoken amongst mountains; for I heard a hill-sent echo repeat the words.

Cooler and fresher at the moment the gale seemed to visit my brow: I could have deemed that in some wild, lone scene, I and Jane were meeting.

In spirit, I believe we must have met.

You no doubt were, at that hour, in unconscious sleep, Jane: perhaps your soul wandered from its cell to comfort mine; for those were your accents-as certain as I live-they were yours!"

Reader, it was on Monday night-near midnight-that I too had received the mysterious summons: those were the very words by which I replied to it.

I listened to Mr. Rochester's narrative, but made no disclosure in return.

The coincidence struck me as too awful and inexplicable to be communicated or discussed.

If I told anything, my tale would be such as must necessarily make a profound impression on the mind of my hearer: and that mind, yet from its sufferings too prone to gloom, needed not the deeper shade of the supernatural.

I kept these things then, and pondered them in my heart.

"You cannot now wonder," continued my master, "that when you rose upon me so unexpectedly last night, I had difficulty in believing you any other than a mere voice and vision, something that would melt to silence and annihilation, as the midnight whisper and mountain echo had melted before.

Now, I thank God! I know it to be otherwise.

Yes, I thank God!"

He put me off his knee, rose, and reverently lifting his hat from his brow, and bending his sightless eyes to the earth, he stood in mute devotion. Only the last words of the worship were audible.

"I thank my Maker, that, in the midst of judgment, he has remembered mercy. I humbly entreat my Redeemer to give me strength to lead henceforth a purer life than I have done hitherto!"

Then he stretched his hand out to be led. I took that dear hand, held it a moment to my lips, then let it pass round my shoulder: being so much lower of stature than he, I served both for his prop and guide. We entered the wood, and wended homeward.

Reader, I married him. A quiet wedding we had: he and I, the parson and clerk, were alone present. When we got back from church, I went into the kitchen of the manor-house, where Mary was cooking the dinner and John cleaning the knives, and I said-

"Mary, I have been married to Mr. Rochester this morning." The housekeeper and her husband were both of that decent phlegmatic order of people, to whom one may at any time safely communicate a remarkable piece of news without incurring the danger of having one's ears pierced by some shrill ejaculation, and subsequently stunned by a torrent of wordy wonderment.

Mary did look up, and she did stare at me: the ladle with which she was basting a pair of chickens roasting at the fire, did for some three minutes hang suspended in air; and for the same space of time John's knives also had rest from the polishing process: but Mary, bending again over the roast, said only-

"Have you, Miss? Well, for sure!"

A short time after she pursued-"I seed you go out with the master, but I didn't know you were gone to church to be wed;" and she basted away. John, when I turned to him, was grinning from ear to ear.

Chapter 38 - CONCLUSION

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