“Are you apprehensive of the new sphere you are about to enter? —­ of the new life into which you are passing?”

“No.”

“You puzzle me, Jane:  your look and tone of sorrowful audacity perplex and pain me.  I want an explanation.”

“Then, sir, listen.  You were from home last night?”

“I was:  I know that; and you hinted a while ago at something which had happened in my absence:- nothing, probably, of consequence; but, in short, it has disturbed you.  Let me hear it.  Mrs. Fairfax has said something, perhaps? or you have overheard the servants talk? —­ your sensitive self-respect has been wounded?”

“No, sir.”  It struck twelve —­ I waited till the time-piece had concluded its silver chime, and the clock its hoarse, vibrating stroke, and then I proceeded.

“All day yesterday I was very busy, and very happy in my ceaseless bustle; for I am not, as you seem to think, troubled by any haunting fears about the new sphere, et cetera:  I think it a glorious thing to have the hope of living with you, because I love you.  No, sir, don’t caress me now —­ let me talk undisturbed.  Yesterday I trusted well in Providence, and believed that events were working together for your good and mine:  it was a fine day, if you recollect —­ the calmness of the air and sky forbade apprehensions respecting your safety or comfort on your journey.  I walked a little while on the pavement after tea, thinking of you; and I beheld you in imagination so near me, I scarcely missed your actual presence.  I thought of the life that lay before me —­ your life, sir —­ an existence more expansive and stirring than my own:  as much more so as the depths of the sea to which the brook runs are than the shallows of its own strait channel.  I wondered why moralists call this world a dreary wilderness:  for me it blossomed like a rose.  Just at sunset, the air turned cold and the sky cloudy:  I went in, Sophie called me upstairs to look at my wedding-dress, which they had just brought; and under it in the box I found your present —­ the veil which, in your princely extravagance, you sent for from London:  resolved, I suppose, since I would not have jewels, to cheat me into accepting something as costly.  I smiled as I unfolded it, and devised how I would tease you about your aristocratic tastes, and your efforts to masque your plebeian bride in the attributes of a peeress.  I though how I would carry down to you the square of unembroidered blond I had myself prepared as a covering for my low-born head, and ask if that was not good enough for a woman who could bring her husband neither fortune, beauty, nor connections.  I saw plainly how you would look; and heard your impetuous republican answers, and your haughty disavowal of any necessity on your part to augment your wealth, or elevate your standing, by marrying either a purse or a coronet.”

“How well you read me, you witch!” interposed Mr. Rochester:  “but what did you find in the veil besides its embroidery?  Did you find poison, or a dagger, that you look so mournful now?”