Mr. Rochester sat looking at me gently, and at last said, drawing me to him again: "My bride is here, because my equal is here, and my likeness. Jane, will you marry me? Give me my name--Edward. Say, 'I will marry you.'"
"Are you in earnest? Do you love me? Do you sincerely wish me to be your wife?"
"I do. I swear it!"
"Then, sir, I will marry you."
"God pardon me, and man meddle not with me. I have her, and will hold her!"
But what had befallen the night? And what ailed the chestnut-tree? It writhed and groaned, while the wind roared in the laurel walk.
"We must go in," said Mr. Rochester; "the weather changes."
He hurried me up the walk, but we were wet before we could pass the threshold.
IV.--The Mystery Explained
There were no groomsmen, no bridesmaids, no relatives to wait for or marshal; none but Mr. Rochester and I. I wonder what other bridegroom looked as he did--so bent up to a purpose, so resolutely grim. Our place was taken at the communion rails. All was still; two shadows only moved in a remote corner of the church.