Jane Eyre Part 3

Chapter 22
What the deuce have you done with yourself this last month?

...there was such a wealth of power of communicating happiness, that to taste but of the crumbs he scattered to stray and stranger birds like me, was to feast genially. His last words were blam. They seemed to imply that it imported something to him whether I forgot him or not. And he had spoken of Thornfield as my home- would that it were my home!

...he smiled at me with a certain smile he had of his own, and which he used but on rare occasions. He seemed to think it too good for common purposes; it was the real sunshine of feeling- he shed it over me now.

...stay your weary little wandering feet at a friend's threshold.

An impulse held me fast- a force turned me round; I said- or something in me said for me, and in spite of me...

There is no happiness like that of being loved by our fellow-creatures, and feeling that your presence is an addition to their comfort.

That evening shut my eyes resolutely against the future; I stopped my ears against the voice that kept warning me of near separation and coming grief. When tea was over, and Mrs. Fairfax had taken her knitting, and I had assumed a low seat near her, and Adele, kneeling on the carpet, had nestled close up to me and a sense of mutual affection seemed to surround us with a ring of golden peace, I uttered a silent prayer that we might not be parted far or soon; be when, as we thus sat, Mr. Rochester entered, unannounced, and looking at us, seemed to take pleasure in the spectacle of a group so amicable-when he said he supposed the old lady was all right now that she had got her adopted daughter back again, and added that he saw Adele was "Ready to devour her little English mama."-I half ventured to hope that he would, even after his marriage, keep us together somewhere under the shelter of his protection, and not quite exiled from the sunshine of his presence.

I began to cherish hopes I had not right to conceive.

Chapter 23
It was the sweetest hour of the twenty-four.

...no one can wish to go to bed while sunset is thus meeting with moonrise.

Do you think I am an automaton? a machine without feelings? and can bear to have my morsel of bread snatched from my lips, and my drop of living water dashed from my cup? Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think worng! I have as much soul as you, and full as much heart! And if God had gifted me with some beauty, and much wealth, I should have made it as hard for you to leave me, as it is now for me to leave you.

I am no bird; and no net ensanres me; I am a free human being, with an independent will; which I now exert to leave you.

I ask you to pass though life at my side-to be my second self, and best earthly companion.

Make my happiness-I will make yours.

If I loved him less I should have thought his accent and look of exultation savage; but, sitting by him, roused from the nightmare pf parting-called to the paradise of union- I thought only of the bliss given me to drink in so abundant a flow.

Chapter 24
It seemed no attire had ever so well become me, because none had I ever worn in so blissful a mood.

Well, I feigned courtship of Miss Ingram, because I wished to render you as madly in love with me as I was with you; and I knew jealousy would be the best ally I could call in for the furtherence of that end.

Seeing me, she roused herself; she made a sort of effort to smile, and framed as few words of congradulation; but the smile expired, and the sentence was abandoned unfinished.

Is it really for love he is going to marry you?

(this is a conversation, I've left out the "he said-she said's" and just kept the gist of it)
"I am too take mademoiselle to the moon, and there I shall seek a cave in one of the white valleys amog the volcano-tops, and mademoiselle shall live with me there, and only me."
"She will have nothing to eat-you will starve her."
"I shall gather manna for her morning and night..."
"She will want to warm herself; what will she do for a fire?"
"Fire rises out of the lunar mountains; when she is cold, I'll carry her up to a peak and ay her down on the edge of a crater;"
"Oh, she'll be uncomfortable there! And her clothes, they will wear out; how can she get new ones?"
"...How will a white or a pink cloud answer for a gown, do you think? And one could cut a pretty enough scarf out of a rainbow."
..."But you can't get her there; there is no raod to the moon-it is all air, and niether you nor she can fly."

I like you more than I can say; but I'll not sink into the bathos of sentiment; and with this needle repartee I'll keep you from the edge of the gulf too; and., moreover, maintain by its pungent aid that distance between you and myself most conductive to our real mutual advantage.

Chapter 25
Mrs. Rochester! she did not exist; she would not be born till to-morrow, some time after eight o'clock A.M., and I would wait to be assured she had come into the world alove, before I assigned to her all that property.

Look wicked, Jane, as you know well how to look; coin one of your wild, sly, provoking smiles; tell me you hate me- tease me, vex me; do anything but move me; I would reather be incensed than saddened.

The night is serene, sir; and so am I.

Chpater27
I have for the first time found what I can trly love- I have found you. You are my sympathy-my better self-my good angel; I am bound to you with a strong attatchment. I think you good, gifted, lovely; a fervent, a solemn passion is conceived in my heart; it leans to you, draws you to my centre and spring of life, wraps my existence about you-and, kindling in pure, powerful flame, fuses you and me in one.

Do as I do; trust in God and yourself. Believe in Heaven. Hope to meet again there.

We were born to strive and endure...You will forget me before I forget you.

Laws and principles are not for the times when there is no temptation; they are for such moments as this, when body and soul rise in mutiny against their rigor; stringent are they; inviolate they shall be.

He seemed to devour me with his glance; physically, I felt at the moment powerless as stubble exposed to the draught and glow of a furnace; mentally, I still possessed my soul, and with it the certainty of ultimate safety.

Conqueror I might be of the house, but the inmate would escape to heaven before I could call myself possessor of its clay dewlling-place. And it is you, spirit, with will and energy, and virtue and purity, that I want; not alone your brittle frame.

My hand moved toward the lock, I caught it back and glided on.

No reflection was to be allowed now, not one glance was to be cast back; not even one forward.

Chapter 28
I have no relative but the universal mother, Nature; I will seek her breast and ask repose.

Life was yet i my possession, with all its requirements, and pains, and respinsibilities. The burden must be carried; the want provided for; the suffering endured; the responsibilty fulfilled.

Chapter 29
...as he took a seat, fixed his blue, pictorial-looking eyes full upon me.

St. John's eyes, though clear enough in a literal sense, in a figurative one were difficult to fathom. He seemed to use them rather as instuments to search other people's thoughts than as agents to reveal his own; the combination of keenness and reserve was considerably more claculated to embarass than to encourage.

I had now swallowed my tea. I was mightily refreshed by the beverage, as much so as a giant with wine; it gave new tone t my unstrung neverves, and enabled me to address this penetrating young judge steadily.

Chapter 30
Days passed like hours, and weeks like days.

Chapter 32
...a tall, massive-featured, middle-aged, and grey-headed man, at whose side his lovely daughter looked like a bright flower near a hoary turret.

I know poetry is not dead, nor genius lost; nor has Mammon gained power over either, to blind or slay, they will both assert their existence, their presence, their liberty and strangth, again one day...Poetry destroyed? Genius banished? No! Mediocrity, no; do not let envy prompt you to the thought. No, they not only live, but reign and redeem; and without their divine influence spread everywhere, you would be in hell-the hell of your own meanness.

I pondered the mystery a minute or two; but, finding it insolvable, and being certain it could not be of much moment, I dismissed and soon forgot it.

Chapter 33
I soon forgot storm in music.

Circumstances knit themselves, fitted themselves, shot into order; the chain that had been lying hitherto a formless lump of links was drawn out straight-every ring was perfect, the connection complete.

This was wealth indeed!-wealth to the heart!

Chapter 34
...he pndered a mystic lore of his own.

There are no such thing as marble kisses or ice kisses, or should I say my ecclesiastical cousin's salute belonged to one of these classes; but there may be experiemental kisses, and his was an experiemental kiss.

When half a year wasted in vain expectancy, my hope died out; and then I felt dark indeed.

... a last refuge for silence.

I scorn your idea of love... I scorn the counterfeit sentiment you offer; yes St. John, and I scorn you when you offer it.

And with that answer, he left me. I would much rather he had knocked me down.

Chapter 36
The suggestion was sensible; and yet I could not force myself to act on it. I so dreaded a reply that would crsh me with dispair. To prolong doubt was to prolong hope.

Chaptr 37
A soft hope blended with my sorrow that soon I should dare to drop a kiss on that brow of rock, and those lids so sternly sealed beneath it; but not yet; I would not accost him yet.

Gentle, soft dream, nestling in my arms now, you will fly, too, as your sisters have all fled before you...

It brought to life and light my whole nature; in his presence I thoroughly lived, and he lived in mine.

You mocking changeling, fair-born and human-bred!

...all the sunshine I can feel is in her presence.

Sacrifice! What do I sacrifice? Famine for food, expectation for content. To be privileged to put my arms round what I value-to press my lips to what I love-to repose on what I trust; is that to make a sacrifice? If so, then certainly I delight in sacrifice.

Chapter 38
...a sound English education corrected in a great measure her French defects...



Well, that's it for Jane Eyre....I must say Charlotte Bronte wrote so much more that I would have put on here but then I would have just put the whole book on here! ;)