So I turned at the door: I saw a robed and veiled figure, so unlike my usual self that it seemed almost the image of a stranger. “Jane!” called a voice, and I hastened down. I was received at the foot of the stairs by Mr. Rochester.
“Lingerer!” he said, “my brain is on fire with impatience, and you tarry so long!”
He took me into the dining-room, surveyed me keenly all over, pronounced me “fair as a lily, and not only the pride of his life, but the desire of his eyes,” and then telling me he would give me but ten minutes to eat some breakfast, he rang the bell. One of his lately hired servants, a footman, answered it.
“Is John getting the carriage ready?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Is the luggage brought down?”
“They are bringing it down, sir.”
“Go you to the church: see if Mr. Wood (the clergyman) and the clerk are there: return and tell me.”
The church, as the reader knows, was but just beyond the gates; the footman soon returned.
“Mr. Wood is in the vestry, sir, putting on his surplice.”