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Jane Eyre - Pennsylvania State University

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Charlotte Brontë<br />

my life dark, lonely, hopeless—my soul athirst and forbid- heart; it puts life into it.—What, <strong>Jane</strong>t! Are you an independen<br />

to drink—my heart famished and never to be fed. Gentle, dent woman? A rich woman?”<br />

soft dream, nestling in my arms now, you will fly, too, as “If you won’t let me live with you, I can build a house of<br />

your sisters have all fled before you: but kiss me before you my own close up to your door, and you may come and sit in<br />

go—embrace me, <strong>Jane</strong>.”<br />

my parlour when you want company of an evening.”<br />

“There, sir—and there!”’<br />

“But as you are rich, <strong>Jane</strong>, you have now, no doubt, friends<br />

I pressed my lips to his once brilliant and now rayless eyes— who will look after you, and not suffer you to devote your-<br />

I swept his hair from his brow, and kissed that too. He sudself to a blind lameter like me?”<br />

denly seemed to arouse himself: the conviction of the reality “I told you I am independent, sir, as well as rich: I am my<br />

of all this seized him.<br />

own mistress.”<br />

“It is you—is it, <strong>Jane</strong>? You are come back to me then?” “And you will stay with me?”<br />

“I am.”<br />

“Certainly—unless you object. I will be your neighbour,<br />

“And you do not lie dead in some ditch under some stream? your nurse, your housekeeper. I find you lonely: I will be<br />

And you are not a pining outcast amongst strangers?” your companion—to read to you, to walk with you, to sit<br />

“No, sir! I am an independent woman now.”<br />

with you, to wait on you, to be eyes and hands to you. Cease<br />

“Independent! What do you mean, <strong>Jane</strong>?”<br />

to look so melancholy, my dear master; you shall not be left<br />

“My uncle in Madeira is dead, and he left me five thousand desolate, so long as I live.”<br />

pounds.”<br />

He replied not: he seemed serious—abstracted; he sighed;<br />

“Ah! this is practical—this is real!” he cried: “I should never he half-opened his lips as if to speak: he closed them again. I<br />

dream that. Besides, there is that peculiar voice of hers, so felt a little embarrassed. Perhaps I had too rashly over-leaped<br />

animating and piquant, as well as soft: it cheers my withered conventionalities; and he, like St. John, saw impropriety in<br />

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