As the clergyman's lips unclosed to ask, "Wilt thou have this woman for thy wedded wife?" a distinct and near voice said: "The marriage cannot go on. I declare the existence of an impediment."
"What is the nature of the impediment?" asked the clergyman.
"It simply consists in the existence of a previous marriage," said the speaker. "Mr. Rochester has a wife now living."
My nerves vibrated to those low-spoken words as they had never vibrated to thunder. I looked at Mr. Rochester; I made him look at me. His face was colourless rock; his eye both spark and flint; he seemed as if he would defy all things.
"Mr. Mason, have the goodness to step forward," said the stranger.
"Are you aware, sir, whether or not this gentleman's wife is still living?" inquired the clergyman.
"She is now living at Thornfield Hall," said Mason, with white lips. "I saw her there last April. I am her brother."
I saw a grim smile contract Mr. Rochester's lip.
"Enough," said he. "Wood"--to the clergyman--"close your book; John Green"--to the clerk--"leave the church; there will be no wedding to-day."
"Bigamy is an ugly word," he continued, "but I meant to be a bigamist. This girl thought all was fair and legal, and never dreamt she was going to be entrapped into a feigned union with a defrauded wretch already bound to a bad, mad, and embruted partner. Follow me. I invite you all to visit Grace Poole's patient and my wife!"