otman　soon　returned。

“Mr。　Wood　is　in　the　vestry；　sir；　putting　on　his　surplice。”

“And　the　carriage？”

“The　horses　are　harnessing。”

“We　shall　not　want　it　to　go　to　church；　but　it　must　be　ready　the　moment　we　return：　all　the　boxes　and　luggage　arranged　and　strapped　on；　and　the　coachman　in　his　seat。”

“Yes；　sir。”

“Jane；　are　you　ready？”

I　rose。　There　were　no　groomsmen；　no　bridesmaids；　no　relatives　to　wait　for　or　marshal：　none　but　Mr。　Rochester　and　I。　Mrs。　Fairfax　stood　in　the　hall　as　we　passed。　I　would　fain　have　spoken　to　her；　but　my　hand　was　held　by　a　grasp　of　iron：　I　was　hurried　along　by　a　stride　I　could　hardly　follow；　and　to　look　at　Mr。　Rochester’s　face　was　to　feel　that　not　a　second　of　delay　would　be　tolerated　for　any　purpose。　I　wonder　what　other　bridegroom　ever　looked　as　he　did—so　bent　up　to　a　purpose；　so　grimly　resolute：　or　who；　under　such　steadfast　brows；　ever　revealed　such　flaming　and　flashing　eyes。

I　know　not　whether　the　day　was　fair　or　foul；　in　descending　the　drive；　I　gazed　neither　on　sky　nor　earth：　my　heart　was　with　my　eyes；　and　both　seemed　migrated　into　Mr。　Rochester’s　frame。　I　wanted　to　see　the　invisible　thing　on　which；　as　we　went　along；　he　appeared　to　fasten　a　glance　fierce　and　fell。　I　wanted　to　feel　the　thoughts　whose　force　he　seemed　breasting　and　resisting。

At　the　churchyard　wicket　he　stopped：　he　discovered　I　was　quite　out　of　breath。　“Am　I　cruel　in　my　love？”　he　said。　“Delay　an　instant：　lean　on　me；　Jane。”

And　now　I　can　recall　the　picture　of　the　grey　old　house　of　God　rising　calm　before　me；　of　a　rook　wheeling　round　the　steeple；　of　a　ruddy　morning　sky　beyond。　I　remember　something；　too；　of　the　green　grave…　mounds；　and　I　have　not　forgotten；　either；　two　figures　of　strangers　straying　amongst　the　low　hill