I　was　silent：　I　thought　he　mocked　me。

“e；　Jane—e　hither。”

“Your　bride　stands　between　us。”

He　rose；　and　with　a　stride　reached　me。

“My　bride　is　here；”　he　said；　again　drawing　me　to　him；　“because　my　equal　is　here；　and　my　likeness。　Jane；　will　you　marry　me？”

Still　I　did　not　answer；　and　still　I　writhed　myself　from　his　grasp：　for　I　was　still　incredulous。

“Do　you　doubt　me；　Jane？”

“Entirely。”

“You　have　no　faith　in　me？”

“Not　a　whit。”

“Am　I　a　liar　in　your　eyes？”　he　asked　passionately。　“Little　sceptic；　you　shall　be　convinced。　What　love　have　I　for　Miss　Ingram？　None：　and　that　you　know。　What　love　has　she　for　me？　None：　as　I　have　taken　pains　to　prove：　I　caused　a　rumour　to　reach　her　that　my　fortune　was　not　a　third　of　what　was　supposed；　and　after　that　I　presented　myself　to　see　the　result；　it　was　coldness　both　from　her　and　her　mother。　I　would　not—I　could　not—marry　Miss　Ingram。　You—　you　strange；　you　almost　unearthly　thing！—I　love　as　my　own　flesh。　You—poor　and　obscure；　and　small　and　plain　as　you　are—I　entreat　to　accept　me　as　a　husband。”

“What；　me！”　I　ejaculated；　beginning　in　his　earnestness—and　especially　in　his　incivility—to　credit　his　sincerity：　“me　who　have　not　a　friend　in　the　world　but　you…　if　you　are　my　friend：　not　a　shilling　but　what　you　have　given　me？”

“You；　Jane；　I　must　have　you　for　my　own—entirely　my　own。　Will　you　be　mine？　Say　yes；　quickly。”

“Mr。　Rochester；　let　me　look　at　your　face：　turn　to　the　m