ileameheresultratherofweakhanofwill.

    “Yes,sir.”

    “Thentellmesoroundlyandsharply—don’tspareme.”

    “Iot:Iamtiredandsick.Iwantsomewater.”Heheavedasortofshudderingsigh,andtakingmeinhisarms,carriedmedownstairs.AtfirstIdidnotknowtowhatroomhehadborneme;allwascloudytomyglazedsight:presentlyIfelttherevivingwarmthofafire;for,summerasitwas,Ihadbeeicycoldinmychamber.Heputwiomylips;Itasteditandrevived;thenIatesomethingheofferedme,andwassoonmyself.Iwasinthelibrary—sittinginhischair—hewasquitenear.“IfIcouldgooutoflifenow,withouttoosharpapang,itwouldbewellforme,”Ithought;“thenIshouldnothavetomaketheeffortofcragmyheart-stringsinrendingthemfromamongMr.Rochester’s.Imustleavehim,itappears.Idonotwanttoleavehim—Iotleavehim.”

    “Howareyounow,Jane?”

    “Muchbetter,sir;Ishallbewellsoon.”

    “Tastethewineagain,Jane.”

    Iobeyedhim;theheglassoable,stoodbeforeme,andlookedatmeattentively.Suddeurnedaway,withaninarticulateexclamation,fullofpassioionofsomekind;hewalkedfastthroughtheroomandcameback;hestoopedtowardsmeasiftokissme;butIrememberedcaresseswerenowforbidden.Iturnedmyfaceauthisaside.

    “What!—Howisthis?”heexclaimedhastily.“Oh,Iknow!youwon’tkissthehusbandofBerthaMason?Yousidermyarmsfilledandmyembracesappropriated?”

    “Atanyrate,thereisherroomnorclaimforme,sir.”

    “Why,Jane?Iwillspareyouthetroubleofmuchtalking;Iwillanswerforyou—BecauseIhaveawifealready,youwouldreply.—Iguessrightly?”

    “Yes.”

    “Ifyouthinkso,youmusthaveastrangeopinionofme;youm