l　of　struggle；　blackness；　burning！　Not　a　human　being　that　ever　lived　could　wish　to　be　loved　better　than　I　was　loved；　and　him　who　thus　loved　me　I　absolutely　worshipped：　and　I　must　renounce　love　and　idol。　One　drear　word　prised　my　intolerable　duty—“Depart！”

“Jane；　you　understand　what　I　want　of　you？　Just　this　promise—‘I　will　be　yours；　Mr。　Rochester。’”

“Mr。　Rochester；　I　will　not　be　yours。”

Another　long　silence。

“Jane！”　remenced　he；　with　a　gentleness　that　broke　me　down　with　grief；　and　turned　me　stone…cold　with　ominous　terror—for　this　still　voice　was　the　pant　of　a　lion　rising—“Jane；　do　you　mean　to　go　one　way　in　the　world；　and　to　let　me　go　another？”

“I　do。”

“Jane”　（bending　towards　and　embracing　me）；　“do　you　mean　it　now？”

“I　do。”

“And　now？”　softly　kissing　my　forehead　and　cheek。

“I　do；”　extricating　myself　from　restraint　rapidly　and　pletely。

“Oh；　Jane；　this　is　bitter！　This—this　is　wicked。　It　would　not　be　wicked　to　love　me。”

“It　would　to　obey　you。”

A　wild　look　raised　his　brows—crossed　his　features：　he　rose；　but　he　forebore　yet。　I　laid　my　hand　on　the　back　of　a　chair　for　support：　I　shook；　I　feared—but　I　resolved。

“One　instant；　Jane。　Give　one　glance　to　my　horrible　life　when　you　are　gone。　All　happiness　will　be　torn　away　with　you。　What　then　is　left？　For　a　wife　I　have　but　the　maniac　upstairs：　as　well　might　you　refer　me　to　some　corpse　in　yonder　churchyard。　What　shall　I　do；　Jane？　Where　turn　for　a　panion　and　for　some　hope？”

“Do　as　I　do：　trust　in　God　and　yourself。　Believe　in　heaven。　Hope　to　meet　again　there。”

“Then　you　will　not　yield？”

“No。”

“Then　you　condemn　me　to　live　wretched　and　to　die　accursed？”　His　voice　rose。

“I　advise　you　to　live　sinless；　and　I　wish　you　to　die