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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
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